There Is Always Hope
by Hylidaes
Summary: They both survived the war with survivor's guilt and a serious saviour complex. Years later, she is broken, he is redeemed but not at peace. Fortunately for them, they're is always hope. An adult Snamione, mostly canon compliant except for few obvious tweaks. Rated M for adult themes, and probably further content.
1. Chapter 1

Inspired by the wonderful creativity I have enjoyed reading here these past months, I have decided to sit down and trust my-self enough to borrow J.K. Rowling's wonderful characters and play with them for a while for the very first time. I am forever grateful to her for giving me those friends of paper, and to this community to keep them alive. I am excited to try and share with you my take on it and this particular plot bunny that was haunting me for a while.

Unfortunately, to be honest with you, I already know I won't be able to update regularly. Moreover, I really have no idea where this will take me, nor how long it will be. But I do promise that if you find this story compelling enough to follow it and maybe cheer me up on the way, I'll see it through eventually!

Be warned though : I am a first-timer, English is not my native language, and to top it all I am dyslexic. So please be indulgent, but all corrections are welcome as well as benevolent critics!

Enough said, go on reading!

* * *

Hermione Granger was not anymore the girl her friends used to know. She had been the brightest witch of her age – she supposed she still could be, or could she? – but the darkest side of her personality had taken the best of her lately. She was a now a broken woman.

Or more accurately, she thought watching cheap whisky twirl at the bottom of her tumbler, a drown woman. Up until a point, she had been able to keep up the appearances. She had gotten very good at lying to her-self after the war. It had been easier than facing the feeling of uselessness and futility once they had buried their dead.

The kids had helped for a moment, she had felt purposeful again as a mum. Now she was past deceiving anyone, she could admit the only reason she ended up marrying Ron at all was here desire to get kids. But then she had failed them. She siphoned the last of her glass and set it back down the brass counter with an audible clunk.

— Alright there Miss? Asked the pretty young Muggle behind the bar.

The concern in his voice rang true. She struggled to adjust her focus on his face as she tried to remember if it was the same waiter as earlier or if there had been a shift at some point. Over the past few weeks, maybe more, she lost track of the time at some point, she had grown accustomed to the automatic shiny smile and the learned solicitude of the service folks in the US. But it was rare to encounter genuine empathy in the buzzing city of New York. The anonymity had served her purpose well so far, but she felt a ridiculous wave of gratitude overcome her looking upon the genuine smile of the young man. A boy really. He couldn't be much older than Teddy.

She felt the need to thank and reassure him at the same time. She hoped Hugo would turn into a kind young man too one day. Despite growing up without his mother.

Her attempted smile faltered and tears trickled down her cheeks.

— You'll get yourself a bigger tip if you keep on calling me miss, young flatterer, she joked bravely, gesturing for another round.

She wasn't young anymore. Had she ever been? She could not remember more than a few glimpses of being carefree, but there was a war brewing at the time. And then she'd felt responsible for it. Harry had been her Frodo, and she had carried him all the way up. They had been so hopeful. This young hope for a brighter future, that was it. That was the tale-tell of how young they were at the time. Blind hope and foolishness had brought them realise the impossible and defeated a crazily powerful terrorist. They had won a battle and thought they'd won a war. They had survived and buried their dead, still hopeful for a brighter future. But there was non to be had, not really. Not if you cared to look at the bigger picture.

They were so bloody young, younger than brown young man pouring her a new glass with a sad reproving look on his face. She was rambling again she noticed. Looping back and again on the same considerations. A few more glasses would take care of that. If only she could get her hands on a vial of Draught of the Living Death… but she was not so addled yet as to bring the attention of the MACUSA upon her. She had successfully been staying clear of the magical world so far, and intended to do so up until she ran out of No-Maj dollars. Which wouldn't be long at this rate. NYC was a very expensive city and Hermione Granger was an avid drinker.

She chuckled ironically to her-self. What would people think if they could see her now… The successful scholar, war-hero, mother of two and charismatic Minister was now a powerless mess of a witch. A mess of a human being, really. She had failed. Failed to do her job. To save the bloody world from itself. She had failed her government, her country. And she had lost her family in the process. Failed her own kids. All for nothing. The world would carry on being a darker and darker place and foster more terrorists and dictators, wether dark wizard or muggles lunatics. In the meantime, her kids had chosen to stay with their dad.

She was not aware she was sobbing before a brown hand with a white tissue materialized it-self between her nose and the counter. The Kind-Young-Waiter no doubt. She took the profered hankie with shaking fingers and turned toward the nearly empty room to blow her nose gracelessly. Apparently the lunch people who were there when she arrived had left during her self-pity party. Or had it been the breakfast crowd? It didn't really matter now. She knew perfectly well it was way to early to be wasted.

As it was too early in her life to feel so old. Ancient.

— I don't know, I'll ask her… What's your name, love?

It took her a moment to register the sensation of the young guy's gentle touch on her elbow.

— I am Andy, would you care to tell me your name… Miss? He asked again with a cheeky smile, he hold his smartphone against his shoulder.

— Her, heu, Je, Jean. She stammered.

She had almost let her real name slipped. Not that it would have mattered terribly in the fancy No-Maj Nolita, but some safety reflexes hadn't drown in whisky yet.

Andy smiled encouragingly and repeated her name in his phone, thank whoever he was speaking too before hanging up.

— Alright Jean, how would you like to meet one of my friends?

The shrill sound and flashing light of a red alarm broke the mist in her head. That meant trouble. She should have known. When would she eventually learned? People aren't nice without an agenda. The human race was among the most despicable species, and Young Kind Andy was no exception. But who was she to judge?

— Sure, she smiled. But, serve me another one before, though.

She would gulp a last one down to give her some semblance of strength and do her usual vanishing act before the « friend » had time to arrive, whatever his purpose was. No-one was going to con, rob or rape her today. Hermione Granger was a broken drunken mess, but she was certainly no fool.


	2. Chapter 2

Severus Snape had died in that fateful day of 98, in a war he never expected to survive. Of that there was no doubt. Especially not in Tobias Prince's mind. At least, not until he stumbled upon the former British Minister of Magic sprawled in her own vomit on the floor of a cosy café in Nolita.

Andy crouched over the woman, cradling her up with one harm and offering her a glass of water with the other.

— Shush, don't worry Jean, everything is okay. Just drink a sip of water for now. You need it if you don't want to collapse again.

Andy was reassuring the woman who seemed to be frantically slurring something about not calling 911.

He was a good kid. One of « his » kids, one of the first he had helped throughout the years, and if he was to be honest, probably the one he was the most proud of. And that was not the first time Andy had called him to help rescue someone else, most of the time young outcasts of the magical community, but sometimes no-maj too, and on tow occurrences, cats.

This one was just one more drifting soul, apparently a witch from what the boy had hinted at over the phone, a little older than their usual protégés. Someone he thought was famous he had texted between his first casual call and his second more frantic one when the woman had fainted on him.

— I promise I won't call 911 Jean, but you have to drink water for now ok? Is there someone I can call for you? What was your name again?

If he had recognized her sooner, he would probably had turn back on his heel, and texted Andy he could help him support her from afar but could not get involved.

He could have gone on with his quiet redeemed life. At least if she had made any other answer to the boy's question.

— Snape, she croaked.

Tobias froze tow steps from the woman, the uncanny coincidence sending a shiver through his spine.

— My name is Snape, she repeated as if she was unsure of it and trying to convince her-self.

— Ok Miss Snape, drink that up, and I'll help you to the bathroom to get you a bit cleaned up. Is that a deal?

She apparently agreed, and lifted her head. That's when it hit him. He was not sure he would have recognized the England's ex-MoM, and there was not much left from the insufferable yet brilliant know-it-all in her tired puffed face, but he knew those haunted hazel eyes. They were the last he had seen before he died, a lifetime ago.

And just like that Severus Snape was conjured back to life. And Tobias Prince was not happy with it.

— Ah, Uncle Toby, you're here! Thanks, Man! Could you help me to get Miss Snape here back on her feet? She had a small disagreeable episode just now.

He was unable to move at first. Paralyzed by irrational fear. Flashbacks from his previous forgotten life pass before his eyes. Why did the bloody woman used his former name for Magic sake?

Until he saw the worries on Andy's face, and the expression of pure angst of Madam Hermione Granger-Weasley just before she passed out for the second time. He blinked, shook his head, and sprung into action.

* * *

A short one, because I really should be working on my urgent deadline instead of writing this!  
But I was unable to help it :)

A huge thank you to my first two followers, you made my day!


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione opened her eyes a split instant and immediately decided that was a terrible idea. She shut them firmly before the now familiar pounding in her brain could turn into a splitting headache. The room was not even brightly lit, but dim light was enough.

From what she had gathered from her glimpse, she was in some sort of comfy room. Neither her last dingy hotel room nor an hospital, and definitely not a MACUSA cell, which was a relief. A man was sitting next to the window, she had only seen him silhouetted, but he didn't seem to be an immediate threat.

She tried to asses if there was any damage to herself besides the war going on in her skull and the revolution brewing in her belly. She noticed her right elbow was smarting. She'll probably get one more bruises. She got so many lately from bumping into things when she came back late at night and completely wasted to unfamiliar rooms. She stifled a cry when she managed to focus long enough to notice that she was not wearing her own clothes.

Did she change herself or did some stranger do it? She cringed at the idea. But she couldn't remember much. Who was the man? Did she eventually end up picking up some random guy while she was drunk? So far she had manage to come to her senses before that happened. But she had more and more trouble not going over the edge. If only she could remember what she'd done.

There was the nice young brown kid at the bar… and there was… why was she thinking of Severus Snape now? She needed to think, not to unearth old guilt. The image of their professor dying at her feet as Harry was running away with the vial of silver memories that changed the outcome of the battle had been one to plague her for a very long time. Unfortunately it had not been the only one to wake her up at night. Just one more.

One she still to these day believe she should have stopped. But she should have made a difference. She'd tried for a few seconds, before Ron had called her to her senses and more pressing matters. She hadn't been able to prevent him from dying as she hadn't been to change anything significant after that. She had worked hard to make the world a better place. She had worked her way up to the highest position, still hoping to make a difference. But what difference was there to make when human beings at large, muggles and wizards alike, were bent on self-destruction?

 _You are rambling again Granger_.

She was thirsty. And reluctant as she was to interact with the man and move from what seemed to be a surprisingly comfortable single bed, she could feel she was going to be sick at some point, she needed to reach a bathroom before that happen.

She risked lifting carefully her eyelids for a tiny millimeter and squinted through the cracks at the man sitting in a battered leather club armchair. He was peering through round glasses to what were probably cross-words, gently tapping the tip of his rather prominent nose with his pencil. He could have been the late Potion's Master cousin she thought, idly. Maybe that was the reason he had been on her mind as she woke up. He was in-between ages, sporting salt and pepper hair in a close cropped cut and had the healthy build and complexion of someone who takes care of them-self. He didn't strike her as someone who had put drug in her glass or just made the most of her drunkenness to abuse her.

As if he had felt here perusing he lift his head and a pleasant smile blossomed on his lips. Something that finished to dispel any ressemblance he could have had with the spy who saved them all.

— Miss Snape, a pleasure to see you back among us. May I call you Jean?

Of course that was it! She had given Snape as an alias again. Everything rushed back to her. The nice young Andy asking her for her name, him calling for a friend.

— Andy, she croaked. As her brilliant move to have one more drink came back to her. Obviously she shouldn't have. How many time had she fainted? At least a couple. She vaguely remembered being sick on tiled floor of the bar. Andy had called the man Uncle Tobby. Though, given the dark brown skin of the young waiter and the pinkish hue of the man, she was ready to bet they were not blood relatives. _Well done Sherlock_ , she admonished her-self.

— Andy hadn't finish his shift at Mama Gina's, but he'll be happy to learn you are awake. You had him worried.

He had a rich velvety voice, she didn't know when she had closed her eyes again, but she could easily imagine going back to sleep listening to him. But his next sentence came from much closer, startling her, eyes wide open.

— Here, you should really get water into your system if you want to get rid of that terrible headache.

He was helping her to sit comfortably, propping her up pillows and handing her pinte of water.

— I'd give you something to help with the head, but it would not be worth it if you are going to vomit it right away. And by all means, if you need to do it, you can use this, don't mind me.

She began to suspect the man to be a mediwizard after all and that he had ran some diagnostic spells over her as she slept.

— How do you know…

— Jean, he said, planting is dark gaze in hers, resting a warm hand on her shoulder. You might have been the first customer to passed out on Andy, but you are not the first alcoholic to grace this walls.

His voice was serious, but still warm and soft, not accusing. Just stating a fact. Nonetheless, the word alcoholic cut through her. She lowered her head ashamed. Of course she knew what she had became. But that was the first time someone said it to her face. Fat tears began to drop on the bed linen, darkening the pale grey fabric.

The warmth of his touch disappeared on her shoulder, and for some reason, this sudden loss opened the door for her overwhelming sadness. She began to sob in earnest, like Rose used too when she was little.

She felt him sit on side of the bed and push the basin gently on her lap, before resuming hand on his shoulder, and tentatively sliding it at the nape of her neck, tracing soothing circles with the palm of his hand.

A minute later, her sobbing hiccups had had the best of her already upset stomach and she lost her last shreds of dignity in the bassin while the stranger who vaguely resembled her memories of Snape gently hold her bushy hair out of the way.


	4. Chapter 4

She had fell back asleep quickly after her little trip to the bathroom had used up all her strength. She had half wetted herself while she was sick after her violent sobbing. He was not entirely sur she had noticed, the old t-shirt he had lended her and the sheets had already been drenched with sweat anyway. But she might have, as she had been adamant to take a shower after that. There was no dignity left when people fell so low. _For fuck sake Granger, what did you do to your-self? Insufferable woman!_

He had helped her make her shaky way down the corridor but had hesitated at the bathroom door, willing to give her privacy. He had never pause to question him-self with the boys before, whatever the addiction, they were not allowed to lock any door before proving themselves weaned off it and trust worthy. As for the few teenaged girls who passed by, he had team up with Malika, the middle-aged no-nonsense nurse was his complete opposite in many ways, but she had a gift with those poor gals. Nearly all of them had been abused by men one way or another, there had been no need to add to there distress by having him hover over them in the bathroom. He was not hovering so much anymore though, shedding black robes, long hair and the demands of double agent would do that to a man.

But Madam Hermione Granger-Weasley was a grown woman, and a very famous one at that. And he had been reluctant to either invade her privacy and or to bring someone else in the confidence. She had settled the matter for him, launching into an epileptic fit in between the sink and the shower, forcing him to intervene lest she hurt her-self. She was already naked in her arm, so when she calmed down, he just stayed washed her skinny body while she sat in the shower. She must have had more liquid meals than solids lately, there had been no meat to spare on her bones. She hadn't uttered a word, nor made eye contact, keeping her eyes on the ground the whole time. He would have been hard pressed to say if that was from shame, exhaustion, or just because she was still far-away in some alcoholic mist. He had seated her on his chair near the window while he changed the bedsheets and tucked her back to bed without a word.

He looked at her sleeping face and hoped she would not remember. Without thinking he brushed a strand of curly hair from her face. Things would be awkward enough without the shame of these first moments. Her cheeks were hollow, her eyes surrounded by dark circle, her lips dry, and her drying hair messier than ever, but still found her beautiful as ever. And so fragile looking. He remembered wistfully an other man a lot like him poking fun at a young girl a lot like her for her front teeth. She had only been a promise of the woman she would become at the time, and the man had been an utter bastard for many good reasons and as much bad. But if he was to admit the truth now, infuriating as she had been, he already knew then that she was a beauty waiting to bloom and a force to be reckoned with. He sighed. He was not the man who knew her as a girl anymore, and yet. He slowly bent toward her and kissed her forehead.

The clinging of keys at the front-door made him jump back guiltily. He schooled his features and calmed his beating heart by the time Andy passed a head through the doorway.

He smiled when he spotted him sitting on the edge of the bed.

— How is she doing?

He mouthed the question, not daring to make a sound.

Looking more composed than he felt he got up and quickly made his way to the door before answering.

— Better, she is asleep now.

He left the door ajar behind them and signal the young man to follow him to the kitchen where he resumed a normal voice level.

— Hungry? He asked giving a concerned look to his protégé.

— Starving, Andy answered with his trademark toothy grin.

— Me too, actually.

— I bet. You always forget to eat when there is a new pup in.

The older man left a questioning eyebrow before turning to muggle appliances and beginning to set up things for cooking.

— Don't look at me like that Tobby-Daddy, you know I am right. But that's not a big deal, I'll take care of you while you take care of the world! He said good-naturedly. Tea?

— Of course, tea. What did we say already about the pet-names? You're not twelve anymore.

His rebuke was half-hearted. As much he despised the name, he was mollified by the intent behind it.

— Well, I doubt the « other boy » will picked it up in this case. And I might not be twelve anymore, but you'll always be more my dad than my old man ever was, Old man.

He smiled to him-self, he couldn't help but love the boy like his own, anyway. He answered over his shoulder.

— Impertinent dunderhead.

— Awww, old fashioned insult, I missed it. She is already bringing back the best of you!

He made a non-comital grunt at that. _If only you knew_. And impatiently glared the water into boiling, even if slow cooking was the only worth way of cooking, sometimes cooking the muggle way was really too slow.

— So, you didn't tell me eventually… why did you decide to pick her up?

— She looked so sad. I don't know. It was maybe the third time she came on my shift in a week or so. Each time a bit earlier than the day before. It was to hard to see her dive down like that. I think she hadn't been at long, you know, but she have probably been at it quite hard. Her magic is erratic. She kept inconsciously acacioing her glass on the counter wandlessly and wordlessly. It would have been impressive if that wasn't so sad… he sighed and paused, there was a few cling and clang of plates being set on the table before he finished in a more sheepish manner. Besides, I thought, since Dave has been gone for a while now, the room was free anyway… and maybe you needed a new project…

— Are we hosting drifting souls to occupy my free time now? How so very considerate of you, gentleman. I'll have you know that despite the appearances, I don't lack neither work nor leisurely activities, thank you very much, and I would not mind at all retire from hosting a social institution in my flat and having it constantly invaded by the every single addict, depraved or abandoned creature you meet.

— Stop your BS, Man, he said with tenderness. I learned from the best, and I saw you there at her bed-side. You can't help but save the world, you'll never retire from it.

For a split moment, Severus Snape stirred behind Tobias Prince's eyes, and he was grateful for the onion he was chopping.

— I think you are right on your estimate, though, he said for a change of topic. I think she hadn't been drinking more than a few months top. She might have been using something else before though.

— DLD ? I suppose the Draught is quite common in the political class.

— Oh, so you figured out where you knew her from, then.

Andy brought him a steaming mug of tea and deposited it carefully on the kitchen counter next to his chopping board.

— Not too difficult, he said, dropping the latest _New York Ghost_ edition next to the tea.

At the bottom of the page, a little picture of Madam Hermione Granger-Weasley taken in her late office as a Minister of Magic as she was welcoming her successor with the title. _British ex-MoM Whereabouts Unknown After her Last Diplomatic Mission with MACUSA_. Read the wildest speculation of European's scandal sheets on page 8.

— Before you ask, I haven't read page 6 yet. I suppose it means you recognized her already.

— I did. If you want to read it, I would suggest you do so now and get read of those pages.

— But your crosswords is on page 7!

He could feel the boy shock without turning. He smirked and reserved the fried onions before adding the fresh basilic in the tomato sauce before checking the pasta. He picked one with a fork, blew on it softly and turned to Andy holding the fork high.

The young man automatically opened the mouth.

— One more minute he answered to the unasked question. I have lived with you nearly half of my life, and I have never seen you dispose of cross-words before completing them!

— There is a first time for everything my boy. I think Miss Granger would be offended to only make it to page 7, anyway.

— Miss Granger? Was she not married to that red-haired goofy man?

— Mister Weasley, very much married indeed, they have two kids if memory serve.

— Did you know her before she married him then?

He could feel the suspicion in Andy's voice. _Damn it_. He had not intent to speak about the past now or ever.

— She was already famous at the time, he said keeping is tone level.

He glanced with gratefulness as the stray tabby who entered the room, meowing and offering perfectly timed distraction. Andy had « offered » her to him for Christmas a few years back, and despite all his efforts to bury his previous life he had not been able to resist christening her Ms. Mac. Her ressemblance to a previous Howgwart teacher was uncanny.

— Feed that poor famished creature please, dinner is nearly ready.

* * *

A/N :

Thank you so much for reading, following, favoriting, commenting!

I know my text are bound to be full of spelling mistakes or more important bugs, please don't hesitate to pm me about them, dyslexic non-native speaker here, if you spot some annoying ones!

And I'd love to know what you think about how the story is unfolding so far! Hope you don't hate me so much for making our poor beloved Hermione go through so much hardships. I am afraid she has not been having an easy life path so far...


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione starred at the ceiling for a long time before moving. She felt sore in every muscle of her body. The pounding headache that had become a fixture in her life seemed to have invited friends and family, and she felt as dehydrated as an otter in the Sahara. But what hurt more, was how much she was missing her kids.

She wonder if they missed their mum. She couldn't remember when was the last time she had send a message to them. She missed their voices, their easy laugh, their impertinent questions, their Weasley-inherited goofiness, their tender hugs, their needs. She missed the hell out of them. It was one thing missing them when she had been trying to make the world a better place for them, and still able to see them now and then and kiss them goodnight. It was another thing entirely to miss them as the world biggest failure, and know she would soon be dead to them for good.

She badly needed a drink.

She got up, the world spun for a while, but she miraculously managed to stay on her feet. Grateful for whoever had put it here, she drank bottom-up the pint-size glass of water on her bedside. She tried to remember where she was, and where she had left her thing. She tried to accio her wand but nothing happened. She sighed. Her magic had been failing her more and more lately.

 _Think Granger, think_. She knew the place. She vaguely remembered a corridor and a bathroom, she was not in an hotel, she was at someone's. She padded barefeet down the corridor she remembered, in her borrowed t-shirt and men's underwear.

In between tow doors, above an old fashion muggle telephone, a non-moving picture caught her eyes. A young brown boy with big pretty eyes and long eye-lashes was eating a hot-dog with glee under the indulgent gaze of a pale white man with short black hair and a crooked nose. The man had an arm around the teen shoulders and the other in his pocket and amused smile.

 _Young Andy and Uncle Tobby_ , she thought, memories of the previous day coming back to her. She remembered comparing the man with Severus Snape and chuckled at the idea of Snape partaking in such mundane activities. Oh, right, she was Snape now. _Jean Snape_. She had to remember, she never had to care about her aliases much before because she'd change hotel as soon as she'd forget the previous one. But for some reason, she had ended up here, and as far as she could tell, they had been very correct. And they appeared to be Muggle indeed, so they wouldn't have recognized her, she would just get her stuff back, maybe repay their kindness with a few dollars, and not worry to erase their memory.

When she arrived to the kitchen the man was pouring hot water in a tea-pot with careful precision. The wooden floor creaked under her feet as she stood in the doorway.

— Ah, Jean, you are back amongst us, he greeted cheerfully without lifting his eyes from the kettle. Did you sleep well eventually?

 _Why eventually_? She wondered for a moment if she had slept with the man, or if she had misbehaved in a way or another. But his voice was warm and cheerful, somehow, whatever had happened hadn't affect him much. For a split second, she wished she could stay and drown in his reassuring voice instead of cheap bourbon.

— Sure. Thanks.

She wanted to ask about her clothes and stuff but didn't really know how. What was the etiquette when you didn't really remember why you were staying with strangers?

— Might I interest you with a cup of tea, or maybe you'd like a coffee?

Tea was something of the past. Tea reminded her of home before her office became home and the strongest darkest coffee replaced it, with large dollop of pepper up in it in the morning to make up for the evening draught. Tea, reminded her of long evening chatting with Molly when her mother in-law had become a surrogate mother to her.

Thinking about Molly brought a pang of guilt. Guilt about her parents who had never known they were grand-parents. Guilt about her kids, who were living with their grand-mother instead of their mother now.

— Tea, she answered in a cracked voice, she swallowed the lump in her throat before adding, tea would be nice.

He nodded to her with a sad smile. Whatever emotions had showed in her face or voice had not been missed on him.

She felt about to cry again. _Get a grip, Granger_. She busied her-self with looking around the muggle kitchen. Something was amiss, but she couldn't pin-point what exactly and that pissed her up. Being pissed was good. She could deal with anger and frustration better than with sadness and despair.

A few minutes passed in awkward silence, and eventually and took the tea-ball out of the teapot and poured two mugs.

He sat at one side of the table and settled the second mug in front of his, silently inviting her to sit too.

When she did, she registered the cold of the old-fashioned formica against her tighs and suddenly felt self conscious. Suddenly the awkward but companionable silence went deafening to her ears. She could hear her blood pulsing, her headache pounding, her thought racing through her exhausted brain. That was intolerable.

— You didn't wear glasses yesterday, did you? She blurted for the sake of saying something.

The man smiled again, pushing said round light-framed glasses on his nose with an elegant finger.

— Well, it depends to which part of yesterday you refer exactly, but you are quite correct, I don't wear them all the time. I was about to read a bit, but since you are here, I'd rather enjoy your company, he said taking off the glasses he had just ajusted. He carefully folded their branches and pushed them away on the table to make his intention clear.

His fixed his patient dark gaze on her with a small smile and a seemingly infinity patience. _Who are you?_ She thought. _Why are you being nice to me?_

She racked her brain to find something more to say but couldn't think of he single thing. His eyes on her were to intent. She began to fidget on her chair like a school-girl, catching her-self barely in time before spilling her tea.

— Jean, he began with a very soft voice after a while, might I ask to which extent you do remember yesterday?

Shame flooded through her veins and she felt her-self blush. His gaze, though more assessing than judgemental burnt her skin.

— Not much, she whispered to her tea.

— No, I didn't expect you would he answered softly.

He covered her left hand resting on the table gently to prevent it to shake. A common occurence lately. The warmth of his palm was soothing.

— I am so sorry… she stammered not daring to look up.

— Don't worry Miss…

— Snape, she supplied, puzzled at the change of address.

— Yes, well, Miss Snape he said with a strange strangled sound.

He seemed to have lost his train of thought and she eventually lift her head to watch him.

— Don't worry, he repeated, apparently catching his drift again, you didn't miss anything worse remembering and the memory loss with cease with time.

— What do you mean it will cease with time?

— The shaking too. The headaches. The stomach burns. Every nasty symptoms, it gets worst first, but eventually it all disappear, I promise.

She withdraw her hand.

— Who are you, she asked angrily, AA?

A pained frown passed upon his face and for a split second, she could see again why she had mistaken him for the dead spy, but he schooled his recovered quickly and smiled again.

This close-lips small smile she would have found charming if it hadn't been so infuriating. There was nothing to smile about.

She drank the last of her tea and put down her mug with a clang.

— Thank you for your hospitality Sir, I'd like to get my belongings back now if you don't mind. I need to be on my way. She commanded, the rudeness of her tone contradicting the politeness of her words.

The man sighed, but stood up too, towering over her a good few inches. She wondered idly if he was taller than her dear Shackelbolt. Thinking about his useless death makes her blood boil again. She stare at the man's chest, willing him to move and bring her her stuff back.

— Very well, your clothes are in the bathroom, he gesture toward the corridor. Second door on the left, I am not sure they are dry yet though. You are welcome to stay until they are if you change your mind, though.

She stomp out the room with uncontrollable rage. Once in the bathroom, she find her jeans, pullover, top and underwear and socks hanging neatly on the clothe rack, still damp from cleaning. As she inhale the nice odor of detergent, she feel her mood shift again, shame replacing anger like a tide. The man was just being nice. Nosy but good-willing. It's not his fault if she is a waste. She began to feel for her wand in the secret thigh pocket of her jeans to spell them dry.

Panic rose to her throat when she came back empty handed. What if it had broken on the washing machine? What if she had lost it before? What if they have stolen it? That's ridiculous, while would they do that?

The shaking of her hand began to spread to her whole body as she made her way back to the kitchen. She was suddenly incapable to fill her lungs properly.

The man is next to her in a second, helping her to a chair.

— Breath calmly, he urge her, everything his going to be fine.

— My, My wan, My… she stammers, realizing she can't even explain to a Muggle.

— Your wand is safely there, Miss Granger, please breathe calmly now. Inhale with me…

There was no time for her to compute the use of her maiden name and the fact the man understood perfectly the source of her panic, all the muscles of her body spasmed together and she fell from into his arms, rigid.

— Damn it, not again Granger, is the last thing she heard before passing out.

* * *

A/N: I promise to stop putting her through all of this soon, but as Snape points out, it will be worse before it gets better…  
/smile sheepishly.


	6. Chapter 6

Tobby sighed when a sizable rhino trampled down the corridor's carpet. He closed the guestroom door quietly behind it and made shushing gesture to the animal who comically closed his mouth and stepped backward to the kitchen before delivering its message. Malika's patronus was both a wink to her mother's land, Burkina Faso, and a good allegory of her character if you asked Tobias Prince.

The beast opened its jaws again and spoke in a confident assertive voice.

— Toby, I got your Wazzup thingy, just connect your freaking floo to the Network already, I have exactly 20 mn for you…

The rhino seemed ready to go but jerked is head like it was having an after thought

— and you'd better have some of your nanny tea ready!

Tobias snorted.

— As if I was going to forget to feed her, he snorted to the dissipating shape of the big mammal.

He exhaled deeply and went to put the kettle on, before shuffling furniture around in the corner of the kitchen-dining room, the common room as the boys called it. Behind a pile of books and a worn out club armchair, from which Ms. Mac glared at him indignantly, he finally made enough space to open the trap-door of an old fashioned wood-burner. He extended his arm and in a practiced gesture, his wand slided smoothly form his sleeves to his hand. He set the connection on with in wordless incantations and turned back to pour the boiling water over the tea-leaves. He might have buried his past long ago, own a Yankee's cap, and mastered the mac'n'cheese, home-made hot-dogs and BLT Baggles, he'll forever particular about his tea. It was not even the Brit in him really, it was more about the brewing and a past life as a potion Master, among others jobs… He set the tea-pot on the table and pinched the top of his nose, closing his eyes. Andy's new protégée was definitely bringing back to much memories of his former life to his liking. Any way, tea, he should focus on tea. Tea was nice and thankfully nowadays it was trendy in the city, where he had had trouble to find it a decade earlier, they were now sold everywhere. Usually between scented candles and fancy yoga pants, though, something he had a hard time to comprehend. For some reason, an image of a much healthier Hermione Granger in said fancy yoga pants popped in his mind and he rubbed his temple, keeping is eyes shut. That was not a line of thought he should indulge in, and given the state of the poor woman, he felt instantaneously guilty. _Just consider her like one the boys_ , Andy had told him as if it was the simplest thing in the world. As if she wasn't a grown woman, and the brightest witch of her age. He shook his head sadly, with the boys, and the girls he had sent Malika's way, it had been easy to see the potential in them, if he was able to help them out of the shitty path they had been put in. With Granger, all he could see was the waste. He remembered her too well, despite all his effort to forget everything about the Golden Trio and particularly those distressed hazel eyes watching him die.

A loud thud, a string of colorful swearing and a cat's screech interrupted his self-pity party.

— Seriously, couldn't you enlarged the bloody thing when you are expecting visits?

He looked at the witch wriggling her generous shapes out of the trap-door out of the ridiculously small trap door and felt a smile tugging the corner of his lips.

— I could, but that wouldn't be as entertaining, he said keeping his voice neutral.

Teasing the petulant nurse was one of his favorite hobby. He was not a bastard, though, no matter what Ms Granger would probably think, he pointed his wand and wordlessly enlarged the wood-burner and even through a few cushions on the floor to soften the impact.

— Thank god, huffed the witch upon landing.

— I'd prefer you use my name.

— Really funny… I hope you have biscuits, they are you'r sole chance for forgiveness.

— Unfortunately, I don't.

— You wouldn't dare to call me if you hadn't, she snapped back, squinting her eyes at him.

— I didn't call you, I texted you. And there really was no need for you to floo in…

— I'll never get around this Wazzup thing. Besides two epileptic seizures in 48 hours, and you didn't send for me right away despite the patient being female, of course you needed me to floo…

That was something he had always appreciated with Malika, she enjoyed their banter as much as he did, but she was all business. And her business was other people's well-being.

— Sit, he said pouring her mug. I'll explain.

— You were serious about the biscuits?

— I was.

He let her pout for a few seconds.

— However, I might have made cheese-cake this morning…

The huge grin on his friend's face was priceless.

— You are all forgiven. Now, spill. Why didn't you sent her to me when Andy picked her up, was she already to bad to be moved?

— Well, yes and no. Yes she was already in a poor state, no that's not the reason why I didn't bring her to you.

He busied him-self settings plates and spoon for the dessert, not sure how to phrase his concern.

— Let's say her identity is highly sensitive.

— Is she one of those teen-star-singer?

— She is not a teen.

— Ho. I see, this is new. Who is she ?

Again he hesitated. She lifted an impatient eyebrow.

— You do remember I sworn medical-confidentiality as a healer, don't you?

— Right. It's Madam Hermione Granger-Weasley.

She lift her eyes from her plate, visibly nonplussed.

He sighed, European politics was obviously not her favorite topic and he knew for a fact she had been training in Australia at the time of the Second Wizarding War, far from England where the crux of it happened, and in one of the less affected magical communities around the world. Still, he was surprised she wouldn't recognize the hyphenated name of two third of the golden trio. He had done his best to forget and hadn't been able to, he was always taken aback when he realized people had began to forget it all for real.

— She is the former English Minister of Magic, and War-Hero, accessorily. She haven't been seen in public for a couple of months apparently, if I am to believed the gossip pages. Although why her family and friends have not yet launched into a search party is beyond me.

— I don't see why you'd find that surprising, you said an addiction to alcohol was the issue…

— That, and I'd bet for an added combo of sleep-potion, pepper-up and diluted draught of the living dead when the sleep potions didn't work anymore.

— That would explain why the sobering potion stopped working… but you know what I mean, she probably cut them out long before ending up in your boy's lap.

— You don't know the Weasley tribe…

— Because you do?

He winced when he heard her shocked tone and watch her perfectly drawn eyebrows raised dangerously close to her hairline. _Severus Snape the Spy should turn in its grave_ , he thought somberly. Good thing he didn't need to be a spy in this after-life of his, because he definitely had became to sloppy for it.

— I… does this patient-healer confidentiality extend to me?

Her eyebrows went down a notch but her jaw fell.

— I'll take that as a yes. I used to. Before.

She was staring at him as if trying to piece a complicated puzzle together, the last bite of her cheesecake uncharacteristically forgotten.

— Before what?

— Before… Before I came here.

— Before the war?

— Before and during the war, well, wars, plural for the elder.

— You say that like… did you fight in the war, Toby? She asked in a subdued tone.

— After a fashion.

— What does it mean?

— I am not sure what you heard about it or remember from that time, but the Second Wizarding War of the 20th century wasn't not really a classical war with orderly battlefields… there was not a lot of actual battle and a lot of underground action, it was a time of legalized terrorism and underground resistance…

— And you were…

— A double-agent.

A shiver passed through him. That was the first time he ever confessed having been someone else than Tobias Prince, owner of the multiple No-Maj-Technology-Protection patents that paid for a nice place in lower Manhattan and social wizard worker on his free-time, Uncle Tobby for his protégés.

Malika seemed about to cry and the sight was unsettling.

— Did you know her well then? She asked eventually in a very small voice

— Well enough. I saw her grow up from eleven to seventeen.

— She was a kid…

A single tear dropped along her left cheek.

— Most of them were. The only real battle took place in a boarding school.

— Yeah, I remember that much. Now at least. Forgive me, I had forgotten.

— There's nothing to forgive, Kika, you were young and faraway from it, and it was a long time ago. And we all did our best to forget.

She nodded and eventually picked up her last bite of cake before a very interested Ms. Mac could lick it.

Tobias sled his plate toward the disgruntled cat who purred at him obligingly.

— So, was she already prone to epilepsy as a kid, as far as you know?

— I could be mistaken of course, but I don't think so.

— Acute withdrawal syndrome then.

— I would say so, but you are the Doc, doc.

She casted a tempus, and gasped.

— Ok, I'll do quick check up now if you don't mind, and I'll stop by later tonight, and keep that damn floo connected! Is she in the guest room?

He acquiesced silently, the lump in his throat to big to speak. For some reason, he was distressed by the incoming examination. What if he had waited too long before calling for help? What if he had misjudged the severity of her state? What if…

The witch came back on her step just after leaving the kitchen.

— One last question. Does she remember you?

He stoped in his track and nearly dropped the plates he was setting in the think to wash the Muggle way. He swallowed hard.

— No. I believe she doesn't have any idea of who I am or was, and I'd rather keep it that way. Oh by the way, she took an alias, so you know her by the name of one Jean Snape.

— Gotcha.

She whirled back to the corridor and he sat heavily grabbing the unsuspecting tabby and squeezing her hard in his harms for confort. The cat scowled but let him do, reminding him once again of her namesake and her infinite patience when her students would take liberties with her animagus form.

 _Minerva_ , he prayed, _if you are not too far beyond that bloody veil, please take care of your favorite cub, she needs it now more than ever_.

* * *

A/N:

She is going to get better now, I promise. She'll be taken care off.  
How do you like Andy and Malika so far?

This redeemed Severus/Tobias seems to have a larger social circle than he had as a spy and grim dungeon bat, so nice people kinda keep popping around him without my express consent… Oh well, let's roll with it!


	7. Chapter 7

_The light of the Muggle Morgue was harsh, making the skin looked grey. Hermione thought she was going to be sick. Oh Kingslay, what have you done?_

 _The Mayor of London gave her a sympathetic look._

 _—_ _I am sorry for your loss, Madam. I thought it would be best if you knew._

 _—_ _I appreciate that Mister Khan. Would you mind telling me how you knew to find me?_

 _—_ _I was recently acquainted with a reality I couldn't quite believe by our late friends._

 _—_ _I see._

 _—_ _I imagine you are aware that after the Brexit debacle and the change in leadership, Mr Gary, I mean, Shacklebolt, forgive me, I used to interact with under his cover's name, decided to not put his trust in the new Prime Minister? I mean, ours, obviously._

 _The man was looking at his feet, embarrassed. She shook her head, she must had been scowling again._

 _—_ _Obviously. We discussed this, indeed, we were not overly fond of the previous one neither to be honest._

 _Khan chuckled lightly._

 _—_ _He explained that was the reason he was putting me in the loop._

 _—_ _I see, she repeated, eyes fixed on her friend's corps. I knew he had the intention to reveal him-self to some high ranking muggle, but forgive me to say so, I wasn't expecting you._

 _—_ _Not high ranking enough I presume?_

 _—_ _Not national enough._

 _—_ _But the threat was in London._

 _—_ _He saw this coming?_

 _—_ _Not him…_

 _—_ _Pardon me?_

 _—_ _His girlfriend was some kind of seer, I believe. I wish I could have also send for her, but he didn't gave me her identity. Will you convey my condolences to her? He died a heroes death._

 _—_ _He shouldn't have died._

 _—_ _None of the innocent who died today should. But thanks to your friends and his… abilities… a lot of life were saved. Including those of my daughters, I am forever in your folk's debt…_

 _Reality downed on her._

 _—_ _He didn't die on the bridge then. There was more attacks planned?_

 _—_ _Yes._

 _—_ _Who his aware of this?_

 _—_ _I am afraid I am the only one left alive, so that makes two with you. Three, with his gifted lady._

 _A powerful hand suddenly gripped her wrist. Hermione open her mouth to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth._

 _Kingsley's eyes were open on milky white orbs, yet he was staring at her._

 _—_ _You failed me Hermione. He accused her, his deep low voice rolling out of his torn throat. Where were you when I sent for you? Out again?_

 _Besides her, the Mayor of London had vanished and in his stead stood a very pregnant Luna Lovegood._

 _—_ _You failed us, she stated with a sad forgiving smile, you failed all of us again._

 _The forgiving unconditional love of her eery tone was unbearable._

 _Hermione turned to leave but her feet were glued on the flour, and Kingsley had a death grip on her. She open her mouth once again, this time her scream echoed through the room._

It reverberated on the wall and woke her with a start. She was drenched in sweat, the t-shirt she was wearing plunged to her aching body, all her body was sore, and her heart was pounding so hard it would bounce out of her ribs if it didn't slow down. Not that she would mind much. Kingsley had died to protect Muggles on a mission she had put him in, and she hadn't been there to protect him. She gazed wildly around her trying to remember where she was.

— Shhh, kido, you're alright, it's just a bad dream, said an unfamiliar feminine voice.

She looked toward the source of it but before she could do more than glimpse at her face, she found her-self pressed to her bosom and rocked back and forth like a kid. For some reason, it reminded her of Luna. She should have known Luna and Kingsley were together… but she hadn't before she attended his burial. In the raven-cladded crowd, Luna had stand out like a beacon in the night in her colorful dress carrying a two-years old the African-way and heavily pregnant.

Hermione sobbed against the stranger's breast for a very long time. What was wrong with her and crying lately? She needed a drink to dull the ache. There was too much to forget, and alcohol was not strong enough but it was better than nothing.

After a while, the woman gave her a tissue and held her sitting while she blew her nose inelegantly.

— Thanks, Hermione croaked as she disposed from her third tissue in the paper basket the lady in the colorful dress was handing her. Her skin and hair were as dark as Luna's were fair and she had a solid earth presence where her old friend always seemed to made out of thin air, but she had the same kind quality to her smile.

— You're welcome, kiddo.

— I am not really a kid, you know…

— Probably, but as long as you'll be snotting on my bosom I will call you one. Now, _kiddo_ , tell me how long you have been doing this to yourself?

Hermione felt her muscle tense of their own accord. Her mind was too shattered to really be afraid, but her body seemed to remember to be on guard. She tried to focus.

— Doing what? Who are you anyway?

— Shhh, calm-down missy, I am not here to judge nor do anything you wouldn't me to do. My name is Malika Empoko, I'm a friend of your friends, and I am here to help you…

What was left of the brightest witch of her age let out a bitter chuckle.

— I don't have friends anymore.

The lady sitting next to her seemed unfazed.

— Well, it seems to me that you made new ones. Now, if you won't tell me, I'll tell you. You probably feel like shit.

— No kidding Sherlock.

— You are going through withdrawal, and given the severity of your symptoms, you were deep in whatever shit you took. And I think alcohol was only a substitute already for what was there before. I don't want to know. I don't need to know. But you had too epileptic seizure in the last 48 hours, you're body is not keeping anything down, you are weak, but most dangerously, dehydrated. So I am going to make a deal with you. I am going to put a good old IV to keep you nourished and hydrated while you're body get the rest it needs, and I am going to give you something to take the edge of withdrawal off and the nightmares and hallucinations at bay…

— I don't have hallucinations…

— Andy said you saw something that scared the hell out of you before your second faint in his café. Something that was obviously not there…

— I don't remember…

— Good, you look like someone who have enough bad memories for a lifetime, no need to add to the pile. In exchange to a dreamless restful sleep…

— Nothing you can give me will work, not anymore.

— Trust me on this, you're not my first. I'll get you're skinny ass back on in no time. Anyway, I was saying, the only thing I ask, is for you to sit down and talk with Toby when you'll wake up in a few days, and to take at least 24 hours to consider what he will tell you before you leave. Do we have a deal?

— Why should I trust you?

— Because you can't trust your-self anymore and you know it. I am not sure what you are punishing your-self for, but you are not suicidal kiddo. You've been slowly destroying your-self, but you want to live. And you're going to have a hard-time staying alive without my help. You went too far.

Hermione swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. Empoko's words hurt like hell, but she was too exhausted to fight them. She knew she should have worried at what would be the real cost, what would Toby's proposal be. But her brain was too foggy, and her body was knotted mass of pains. She wanted out again, and that was just what the woman promised.

— Deal, she whispered.

— Good, now, close your eyes, relax, and let me do my work.

* * *

A/N : I thought I'd let you know a bit more about Kingsley's fate since you asked…  
The gloom is going to clear up soon, but I am afraid the road is going to be quite long and bumpy. Hang on and let me know what you think!  
I love reading your reviews!


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Thank you all for your patience, life has been a bit overwhelming lately, including career change, moving across borders and such, but I am committed to seeing this story unfold until its rightful conclusion :)  
And a big thank you to my reviewers, you always make my day! 3

* * *

Tobias Prince checked the time on his smart-phone for what felt like the millionth time that day. Malika had said their guest should awaken in the afternoon, it was now nearing 6 pm and she hadn't stirred yet.

He sighed, picked up the abandoned cross-words from his lap, folded it with annoyance before discarding it on the nearest coffee table. He took off his small reading-glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose where they left a little red mark.

He was thoroughly annoyed with him-self. His patience and calmness were is pride, and had become an urban legend among the local youth, maj and no-maj alike. He glared at the prone form still asleep in the guest bed. Somehow, she had upset all his carefully built world just by showing up in Andy's bar. And he was pretty sur it was going to get a lot worse when he'll have to confront her and have « The Talk ».

He was dreading it, and yet, he felt like he hadn't breath correctly since Kika put her under to recover. She couldn't wake up soon enough. His nerves were a wreck. It was quite ridiculous, all things considered. But Tobias Prince had never been the aloof distant misanthrope Severus Snape, spy extraordinaire, had been. He was a quiet, reserved man for sure, but he had never erected again the protective walls behind which the tortured Slytherin boy had grown up and died. He had had plenty of time to think after the war. And at some point he had come to the conclusion that those walls he had needed to survive is childhood as ostracized him in Howgart, cut him from the others instead of serving him, and as a result he had signed up him-self as a Death-Eater out of a desperate desire to belong somewhere. Granted, the reasons had been more complex than that at the time, but he knew the danger of isolation well. Isolation led to people to be the prey of choice for every guru or political leader that came round, and Tom Riddle had been both and more. So instead of repeating the mistakes of the past, for his second chance at life, he had used his talents as an Occlumens to bury the past so well that he had almost convinced him-self it had all happened to someone else. Up until she showed up. Potter's friend. The brightest witch of her age. Insufferable know-it-all. The pair of hazel eyes who misted up when he died…

He hadn't follow the Golden Trio's fame the first few years, he was too busy surviving first, and then atoning for his sins in a Muggle prison. It took him practically a decade before feeling safe and curious enough to read the Magical European news again. He'd caught Hermione Weasley-Granger's ascension to power mid-way and watched her rise from afar with fascination and, if he was to be honest with him-self, a misplaced pride. After all, he had taught the dunderheads well.

Even for the remote observer he was, there had been something fishy about the abruptness of her demotion. But she was at this point nothing more to him than a favorite name in the international pages and he hadn't paused more than a few minutes to wonder about it.

But with the impending « Talk » looming over him, he knew he'd had to ask about her family and if there was someone to contact. Usually stray kids who found shelter under his roof to leek their wounds, and more than often needed help through withdrawal, had fled home and already severed all social ties by the time they arrived. But they were outcasts, misfits, not the freaking MoM of Uk, nor mother of two. And especially not member of the Weasley klan or Potter's inner circle. As far as he remember them those people were tribal to the extreme. Why he hadn't already find Macusa agents, Potter and dozen of redheads on his doorstep was beyond him. But then, so was the fact such a brilliant woman had become such a wretched mess.

But that part was easy enough to imagine. Survivor's guilt, add to it over-achiever burn-out, maybe throw in a bout of marital deception, he smirked at the thought, and that was enough to drive someone with her level of responsibility to the wrong path.

A soft knock on the door dragged him out of his somber considerations. Andy's face peaked carefully behind the door.

— I need to talk to you, he whispered, mouthing the words exagerately.

Tobias unfolded him-self from the chair and followed the boy to the kitchen after throwing one last worried glance at his guest.

Andy had already set out two tea mugs and the water was boiling. That looked ominous.

— Oh. That kind of talking then.

He sat in front of one of the mugs and studied the boy, waiting for him to began. Silence was always a good policy with young men. With most people, really. Andy was busying him-self with the kettle, avoiding to look-up. Was he blushing?

Tobby let out a sigh of relief. If he knew his boy at all, it would be a matter of the heart. What was the name of the Muggle boy he'd been dating lately? Something of Indian decent.

— IsortainvitedSidhomefordinnertonight…

The boy blurted out the whole sentence without breathing.

Siddarth, of course. He must have been even more distracted by Granger than he thought to forget the wonderful Sid. Andy had been mentioning him for months now. He schooled his features to remain neutral, but the corner of his mouth were begging to go up. His boy was deep in trouble if his level of anxiety over a simple impromptu dinner invitation was anything to go by. This young Sid of his had better to be in love, because he was probably going to end up with a proposal before long at this rate. US laws were still very strict with the status of secrecy, and only married couple were allowed to tell their spouse about their magical upbringing. As a result young wizards and witches who fell for no-maj were popping the question somewhat faster than the rest of their generation.

— Will you please say something?

— Oh. Is it my turn to talk already? I was expecting more breaking news.

The young man rolled his eyes.

— Insufferable old man, he muttered.

Tobby smirked. They couldn't look more different from one another but the kid had absorbed all his mannerism like a sponge in their years together.

He eventually had pity on him.

— Ok, then, we need a plan. First, close the floo, while I send a patronus to Kika, the old hag never read her texts, she is suppose to stop by tonight.

Andy whimpered at this piece of news.

— Then, you'll tell me exactly at what time your man will be showing up, in which precise terms the invitations was conveyed, and all his known food restrictions are. From there, we'll work out what kind of dinner.

Andy let out a sigh of relief, and rounded the table in a surprising speed, giving Tobby a fierce hug before walking to corner where the wood-burner stood without looking back.

Tobby felt his heart swell a bit, quite happy that Granger hadn't risen from the dead yet, it would have been embarrassing to show _her_ how much he had softened. He shook his head at the thought, there was no reason she would recognize him now if she hadn't yet.

Nobody had in years, and even him-self would have had a hard time to recognize the unhealthy greasy dungeon bat behind the wholesome no-nonsense reflection of Tobias Prince in his mirror. Or maybe just the nose.

— What are you smiling about, old man? Did you send your patronus already?

Tobby snapped out of his reverie.

— No reason, and not yet. As a matter of fact. What don't you cast it yourself while I go check on our guest. She is supposed to wake up anytime now.

Andy froze.

— Is she?

— I thought you'd be happy to hear it.

— I am, it's just…

— Don't worry, Malika said she had been keeping on her Jean Snape the no-maj pretense before going under, there is no reason to for her to change a mind stumbling upon a perfectly normal no-maj dinner.

— Right.

Andy's shoulder relaxed visibly but not quite completely.

— Everything is going to be ok, you'll fiancé will be impressed by your cooking, and all we be well.

Tobbias spun on his heels before the boy can react.

— He is not my fiancé yet… wait, _my_ cooking? Andy asked as he was already out of the room.

 _Yet_. He chuckled to him-self. Oh yes, his boy was in trouble.


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione woke up to a clean bed, with a taste in her mouth that reminded her of the old infirmary and Poppy Pomfrey.

She smiled at the thought. As a matter of fact she felt exactly as she had waking up within the matron care in her fourth year after the debacle at the ministry.

Sore, healing, sad, rested and famished.

That was clearly an improvement. She didn't feel good per say, but she didn't feel bad neither, and that was something to behold.

A wonderful smell was making it's way to her from the kitchen. Her stomach let out a loud rumble.

Toads arguing in her belly had once explained a very serious 3 years old Rose.

The thought of her children brought tears in her eyes. So much for not feeling bad. That would have been an even shorter reprieve than what cheap bourbon could bring.

She needed a drink. But first, she needed food. She was ravenous and she knew she wouldn't be able to think clearly with her stomach screaming in her brain. Was it how Ron was feeling on a daily basis? No wonder he had such a short attention-span…

She got up on wobbly legs and steadied her-self on her IV pole. She waited for the world to stop spinning and proceed carefully towards the kitchen.

Once in the corridor, she could hear voices and laughter in the room. Did her hosts had guest, or was there more people living here than she had guessed?

She was suddenly aware of her clothing. She was still wearing an over-large t-shirt but ladies underwear this time. She supposed she would have to thank the brown lady with the colorful Lunaesque dress for that. The thought of Luna and King made her cringe, but pushed it away. Food first. Regrets, booze, and self-pity party later. A woman ought to sort her priorities well.

And right now, hunger ranked higher than dignity.

She took a deep inspiration, and prepared her-self to face strangers half-naked.

She stopped silently on the threshold of the room, assessing the scene before her. Four persons were sitting at the dinner table, eating what looked like ratatouille and falafel, an odd combination she thought but her stomach was clearly not going to object. And drinking red wine in over-large glass. Andy and his Uncle Tobby were facing her. The young man was holding the hand of another young man in front of him. His boyfriend, then. Next to the boyfriend, she recognized her medic with some relief. She instinctively trusted the woman. Were she and « Uncle Tobby » an item too? They were all laughing merrily at some joke she hadn't heard.

Tobby was the first to spot her. He quite clearly took in her state of undress first, and flushed a deep crimson when his gaze eventually travel from her legs to her face, and he froze a moment.

She knew she wasn't much too look at anymore but felt strangely more flattered than mortified or angry. Not that there was any reason to be angry, the man had obviously not intended to be gawking.

The laughter died as his dinner companions registered his abrupt halt and looked up to her. Her stomach choose this moment to let out a cavernous noise. She would have cared about the indignity if half of those people hadn't already saved her from drowning in a pool of her own vomit. Dignity belonged to sober people.

The man was quick to recover and smiled warmly at her, jumping to his feet to pull the chair at the end of the table.

— Miss Snape, a pleasure to see you standing! How do you feel? Please join us!

She began to enter the room, dragging awkwardly the IV with her.

— Don't be absurd Tobby! Poor girl, let's go back to your room, I'll get you rid of that IV and into proper clothes in no time, while the men fix you a little something to eat.

She gave "the men" a pointed look. And Hermione saw a faint blush coloring her host's cheeks again. If she hadn't been so disappointed in seeing her dinner delayed, she'd have find it quite endearing.

She leaned gratefully on the other woman's arm to make her way back to the room. Walking away from food rather than toward it made the corridor seem longer. Her stomach let out another growl.

— Sorry for interrupting the family gathering, she mumbled, hoping to cover the noise.

Her nurse let out a frank laugh.

— I suppose you could call it that! We are a family of a sort after all! But don't worry dear, you didn't interrupt, and I promise we are going to feed that angry belly of yours as soon as you are decent and checked up!

It was easy to let the woman take charge. She was a perfect blend of Poppy Pomfrey no-nonsense and Luna Lovegood, no Shakelbolt, caring bluntness and loving smile. Hermione felt a new wave of sadness overwhelm her as the woman was checking her pulse.

The healer seemed to pick up on her emotions and patted her hand sympathetically before helping her into a pair of pants and a fresh top.

— Thank you Dr. Empoko, I really appreciate it.

The rich laugh filled the room again.

— I am afraid I am no Doctor in the conventional sense, kiddo, and you can call me Malika. Kika for short even, most people do.

Hermione nodded and took the proffered arm to go back to the kitchen. She was still starving but the exertion of coming back and changing had drained her of her energy and with her hunger on the back-burner, she now dreaded to go back and have to interact with the others.

— Malika, she began tentatively.

— Yes, kiddo.

— This talk I accepted to. Will it be…

— No, luv. Don't worry about that tonight. Tonight, you'll just have a nice dinner and a good night of real sleep, not induced by _anything_ – she stressed the word meaningfully – and tomorrow maybe, you'll have to deal with your end of the bargain. But tonight, you just focus on building back strength and rest.

Hermione sighed in relief.

When they entered back the dinning-room, she noticed the plates had been whisked away, and new one were ready for desert, except for one at the end of the table, obviously for her. Falafels, ratatouille and green leaves were arranged in a restaurant-like manner, complete with a balsamic design on the side of the plate. A big glass of water with a slice of lime had been set in front of the plate. The wine, she noticed with a smirk, had entirely disappeared from the table along with the glasses it had been drank in, already washed and tucked away.

— I hope you don't mind if we proceed with the dessert while you catch up on the main course, Miss Snape.

She smiled self-consciously in answer to « Uncle Tobby » as she continue to call the man in her mind, unable to remember if he had offer his full name at some point and not wanted to be rude by asking again in case he did. He had a gentle low voice with a velvety quality to it and perfect manners.

— I am sorry to crash your dinner party, she apologized looking down at her plate.

— Don't be, I am really happy to see you up and about, Miss! I told Sid before dinner that I hopped you'd join us. And thanks to you he got to meet Aunt Kika as well as Uncle Tobby in one go! And…

Andy chattered happily, but she tuned him out after the first bite. Too busy focusing on the delicious food before her. It was a while since her taste-buds had been that receptive.

As strength came back to her, she began to wonder what exactly Malika had given her to put her under and what she had meant about not being a conventional doctor, was she a nurse, or some alternative therapist, or a healer trained in a traditional fashion in whatever country she had her roots in? Empoko, that sounded like west Africa… She tried to remember her official trips in various foreign embassies as she was working her way up the political ladder a few years back.

— …more unless you prefer dessert ?

She realized her host was expecting an answer looking with an eyebrow cocked, and an indulgent smile.

She felt her cheeks warmed up. Her time to blush apparently.

— Would you like some more, or do you prefer dessert? It's a pineapple-coconut cheese-cake, or rather cheese-cake inspired, given it's a vegan version.

He repeated gently, elaborating to give her time to comeback to her senses.

— That was really good, thank you, but dessert would be lovely.

His smile went slightly wider and he nodded, getting up and taking her plate away.

— You will not be disappointed, the no-cheese-cake is to die for!

Sid, Andy's boyfriend, was looking at her encouragingly. The young man was obviously of Indian decent and his accent was quite strong, she wondered if he had been born in the US in a tight community, or if he was an expat student.

— If I had known that food is so good here, I would have begged for an invitation earlier, he joked.

— Is it your first diner here too, then?

The young man was gazing at Andy, his whole face lit with wonder. _Oh, to be young again_. Though she her-self had never looked at anyone like those tow were looking at each other.

The young couple proceeded to explain how they had met at the café Andy served, Sid sitting there to work on his computer for hours. But how after a few month of dating they had somehow both avoided talking much about family until, they dared each other that very day.

Andy seemed a bit ill-at-ease, when it came to the family part.

Hermione's interest was piqued and she was curious to know more about how this obvious "meet the parents" scene she had stumbled in happen to be with "Uncle Tobby" and "Aunty Kika" instead of Andy's parents. But she owed to much to the young man to press the issue only for the sake of satisfying her curiosity. Instead she remarked :

— You are due an introduction to Sid's family if I understand well, then?

Both men stared at their lap in perfectly synchronized manner. So much for not embarrassing him.

— My family is an unusual one, even for Indian standards, began Sid.

— Because you'd call that an American standard family?

Andy blurted his question with a clear level of incredulity but no aggression whatsoever. If anything, he looked pleased by the idea. Hermione filed that information for later. There was too much that didn't meet the eye about this family. And for the first time in months, she realized she actually cared to know.

Sid shrugged.

— Well, as I said, mine is highly unusual. And not exactly appreciative of same-gender relationship. So I wouldn't introduce them anyone lightly. But if you are still willing to meet them, I wouldn't mind introducing them to my fiancé… you could accompany me back home this summer.

There was a pregnant silence, and Hermione saw Malika and Tobby exchange knowing glances over the younger men heads. Sid was back starring at his lap, and Andy was looking stunned, his eyes shining, his mouth hanging open.

Before the silence became to heavy, Malika took gently charge of the situation by touching on the shoulder.

— Luv, you'd better look up if you want your answer and kiss him out of his transe, cause if he stay frozen like that for half an hour, we're never going to get seconds on that cheesecake.

Everyone laughed merrily, the young men kissed self-consciously. The scene was so sweet it was cavity inducing, and she felt both elated by proxy and totally out of place. Yet, everybody was obviously oblivious to the fact she didn't belong with them.

She caught "Uncle Tobby" discreetly swiping a single tear from his eyes. She sent her and understanding smile. _Don't worry, I get it, I am not going to bring attention to it_.

He blinked his gratefulness back at her. She wondered for a minute at how easy it was to fit in and communicate with those people who were total strangers when she had completely lost touch with her own folks.

She felt sadness drape her like a heavy coat took it as her cue to excuse her-self for the rest of the evening. She didn't want to tint their happiness. Besides, she was exhausted by both digestion and emotion.

As she congratulated the boys before calling it a night, Andy surprised her by squeezing her in a tight bear hug.

She squealed, but when she recovered, she gave in the hug. She didn't realize she had missed human contact so much. Not for the first time, she made a wish that her Hugo would turn into a fine young man as this one.

Over his shoulder, she met the salt-and-peppered haired man's gaze again. _However you became to be a surrogate dad for this lad, you did well, you raised him alright_.

His dark eyes shone and he nodded imperceptibly, she could have swear he read her mind.

* * *

Hey! Welcome new readers!  
And those of you who've been with me since the publication of chapter one: thank you for your patience :)  
I hope you liked Andy and Sid's fluff.  
As a matter of fact, Sid is from a region in India called Tamil Nadu, and it happens to be New Years there today! So happy new year everyone!


	10. Chapter 10

Tobias woke with a start at dawn. So he had slept eventually. He really had thought he would never be able to. The evenings event, though mostly pleasant had deeply troubled him.

It was one thing to realize Andy was falling in love and guess that he might get married one day. It was another to witness the young man being proposed, and this much love in his eyes. Toby would be hard press to tell which emotions he felt first : happiness, pride, worry or self-pity.

Of course, happiness was the only one he had expressed, even if he hadn't entirely made good job of hiding is misplaced pride. Even Granger seemed to have picked on it. The acknowledgment he had believed to read in her eyes had sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. Even if she was ignorant of who he was, the approbation on his ability to raise a kid from the kid he'd probably wronged the most had felt like an absolution. But this line of thinking was foolish, as soon as she'd recognize him, she would see matters entirely differently. And he would deserve it, but he was at peace with the idea, he had paid for his sins and he was literally someone else now. He just hoped that he could help her before she connected the dots. He had now doubts that she would at some points, he had seen flickers of the brightest witch of her age still living in the depth of her mesmerizing hazel eyes over dinner.

When on hearth her eyes had gone from haunting to mesmerizing? He was being ridiculous. The love between the boys had been so palpable that maybe it had had some effect on the magic of the assembly and he was now entertaining absurdly romantic notions involving a girl 20 years younger than him that probably hated his guts. Not a girl, a woman. But a married one, with kids. And a serious problem. Probably more than one.

He sighed. Yes, that was definitely the consequences of outburst of love on magic, no doubt. Absolutely nothing todo with the effect the appearance of her long bare legs had had on him, no Sir. All some love Magic Albus Dumbledore was so fond of.

Sid was not a wizard though. And part of Tobias' worry came from that. Andy had been an outcast of the magical community to begin with, and being home-schooled by the most no-maj oriented wizard of the states probably hadn't helped him integrating. So it was no surprise that he eventually fell in love with a muggle. But he feared that it would only increase the immense gap there was between their cultural backgrounds. They sure seem to love each other enough to overcome anything. But young love was a fickle thing. It could burn hot and hard one day and cool down to ashes at the first hardship. And there was no doubt they will have to overcome a lot. Racism, homophobia, pure-blood hatred, they were going to have to face the worse of both worlds. Sid had even mentioned homophobia home. He shuddered. Severus Snape had been a half-blood kid, and yet he'd internalized both hatred of magic and hatred of muggle heritage to the point of calling the one he loved something he'd regret all his life. Sometimes love wasn't enough. It certainly not had been on Lily's part, she never forgave him, and so neither had he forgiven him-self. Not until he died protecting her son. Well, more or less died.

He hadn't thought of that for such a long time that the memories seemed aliens, as if they didn't belong to him. After a fashion, they didn't.

And examining these foreign memories, for the very first time, he wondered. Had it been love at all? Maybe the boy who grew up in a loveless home had mistaken infatuation for the very first human who gave him a sense of belonging for love. Maybe if Lily Evans had love that scrawny boy she called her friend, she would have found it in her heart to understand and forgive. Maybe if he had loved her unconditionally he would never had listened to the sirens of the mad man who openly professed hatred of her kind. But Tobias Prince wondered, what did Severus Snape knew of love?

Not that he had much more experience now about romantic relationships. But he had learn of other bounds. He had learn real unconditional friendship, with Andy's dad in prison first. With Kika later on. Though the crazy woman felt more than a sister than a friend in some ways. And the fact the stray they took care of had always called them aunt and uncle had reinforce that sense of kinship, of family. That was probably the biggest lesson of all. He had no proper family of his own in the conventional sense – confer the lack of romantic involvement to begin with, and they rarely admit it out-loud but Andy and him were family. And there was no doubt of that in his mind and heart of the moment. His little boy was going to leave the nest soon and he wouldn't be able to protect him anymore, it wouldn't even be his role anymore. And he would be alone. Here came the self-pity. He'd never thought he'd understand someday how parents feel when their kid leave the house. Now that was all he could do to keep his dignity and not mop at the thought. It was well and good to allow oneself to feel and love, but there was a limit to everything and he'd grown alarmingly soft with age. If he was going to think about his old self as much, he might as well channel a bit of the billowing coldness of Severus Snape.

As he reviewed the turmoil of thoughts that had kept him awake during most of the night, he went through the motion of his disciplined morning routine. When he sat down on his bolster, he smiled. Meditation would not go amiss that day.

He sure needed to let go of thoughts and clear his mind before talking to Miss Granger. Madam Granger. Granger-Weasley. Hermione. Jean. Jean Snape. Damn the woman. Why had she chosen that name of all?

Deep inhale, deep exhale.

An hour later, a calmer and more composed Tobias was brewing tea for two.

— Unless you'd prefer coffee?

— No, tea is lovely, thanks. It reminds me from home.

The sadness in her tone was unmistakable. He turned is back to her busying him-self with the kettle to refrain the urge of taking her hand. Some people were comforted by contact, but most of those who arrived on his door-step were skittish like wild horses and he had the feeling she would be one of those now that she wasn't as weak as she was the last time he'd soothed her while she cried.

— Do you miss it? She asked suddenly, taking him off-guard.

— I beg your pardon?

— England, I mean.

Did she already know? He smooshed spark of panic deep in his chest. He was being absurd again. The witch was truly going to drive him mad.

— I suppose my accent will never completely wear off, he answered with a lightness he didn't feel.

She smiled. _Good_.

He handed her her tea, noticing the tremors in her fingers. She would soon be craving her booze. But Kika had gave her something to help with withdrawal before she went to bed and he hoped the talk will go better than the last attempt.

He sat in front of her.

And forced him-self to pronounce the name she had chosen to go by formally.

— Miss Snape.

She flinched at the name.

— Before we discuss your situation, I would like to remind you that you are safe and welcome here. And that whatever you decide, it will be your choice and yours only, and we'll of course respect it. And give you back all your belongings of course, he add as an afterthought.

No need to repeat the panic attack of the previous attempt.

She seemed lost in the contemplation of her tea. It reminded him of her disdain for Trelawnay's teaching when she was a kid. Something he had commended her for at the time, despite her infuriating know-it-all manners, danger-prone habits, and general disregard for rules and personal boundaries.

He shook his head to dispel the memory and the small smile it was bringing. Damn, it was like pandora's box had been open since she arrived. Memories of Snape kept popping up uninvited in his mind.

— Miss Snape, do you by any chance remember us having a similar conversation before Miss Empoko examined you?

Her brow furrowed in concentration for a moment, but she shook her head negatively, still gazing down.

He sat patiently, sipping his tea. He needed her to acknowledge she had a problem and needed help before he could propose anything, otherwise it would not only sound dodgy but it would be utterly useless. You couldn't help people who didn't want it. But he knew that if you give them the opportunity and let them the space to do so without fear of being judged, people asked. Usually they it came just after recounting their story.

Sometimes, it would only take a few minutes before they spill the beans, sometimes a few days. In her case, he thought, that already had been a few days, but she had been out for most of it.

She seemed to have reach some kind of conclusion to whatever argument she was having with herself. She took a sharp inhale, squared her shoulders and lift up her head and looked him in the eyes.

Here it comes, he thought smugly, keeping his face neutral.

— It's not my real name, she confessed.

— I know.

He answered calmly, nodding to prompt her to continue, breathing by his long nose to keep the sigh of relief from showing. That was a good start. Better than he expected and he wouldn't have to call her Snape any longer.

— Do you… she frowned. Do you know who I am? She asked gingerly.

— I do.

— Ho.

And tilt! Here was the muggle-pretense gone. He cheered interiorly but kept his feature blank.

As the silenced dragged on he debated wether to speak or not. She was not a teenage runaway after-all.

— You are after all quite famous, he said at last, gingerly.

— I see.

Her voice was ice cold. He'd make a mistake. She was going to ask for her wand and bolt off. And he'd never see her again. He was not quite ready to acknowledge the pinch in his chest at the thought. But more importantly, she'd was not strong enough yet to go on her own. She would not be safe. He'd let her suffer knowingly once, not able to intervene. He was not going to repeat that mistake.

— Again, you are safe here.

— Why the muggle pretense?

He let his smile spread.

— I could ask the same.

She shot him a killing glance and proceed to examine her surroundings as if she was seing the room for the first time.

She shook her head and sighed.

— I should have seen the details. Muggle appliances but not enough plugs. And a wood-burner in New-York?

He chuckled.

— I reckon you are right on the plugs, I should up my game.

— Why do you do it?

— That way we don't have to keep the No-Maj out-side. The whole building is No-Maj. Most of Andy's friends, his boy… his fiancé even.

— That's not what I meant. Why did you bring me here? Why did you call the Healer? Of course she is a healer.

The last sentence was added for her-self in an exasperated tone.

He was pondering over his next word as he would be over a chess move, but she beat him to it.

— Did you already call them?

— I beg your pardon?

— If you knew who I am… then you must have, why wouldn't you?

She suddenly looked deflated, more l fragile and defeated than angry and suspicious.

— If by « them » you are referring to the Macusa or the Weasley's, no. I didn't. The only ones who knows about your presence here were all present yesterday evening. And none of them have ill-intentions. If that can be of comfort to you, Andy and Malika don't have a clear understanding of who you are—

— But you do, she cut him accusingly.

— Given my origins, yes.

He countered, his tone shorter than he'd like. She was not making it easy for him and he was accumulating mistakes like a rookie.

— Once again, you are safe here.

— But why? Why are you so kind to me?

Without further ado, she burst into tears. Big fat ugly crocodile sobs. It was an unpleasant scene. But tears could be cathartic. And they meant he was closer to his goal.

— Because we have no reason not to be, he said gently, wordlessly accioing a box of tissue to land next to her mug.

She blew her nose inelegangtly.

— I don't understand, she said plaintively, shaking her head. Are you some kind of vigilante organisation?

— Of course, I am the Batman and Andy his my Wonder Boy.

The retort had sprong from his mouth before he could stop it. The idea was so ludicrous.

She stared at him for a moment, incredulity etched over her face, tears forgotten. Then she laughed. A belly laugh. One that came from a place within as deep as the source of her tears. The sound she made was heart-warming. He vouched to make her laugh as often as he could if she chose to stay and heal. She kept on going, and he couldn't help but join her.

When at last they caught their breath, she explained breathlessly.

— I was more thinking along the lines of A.A.

— That would be closer from home, but we are not an organisation of any kind, though Kika is member of plenty of organization, she is the ultimate volunteer and good-doer. I, however, just ended up raising a kid with a big heart and a knack for bringing home broken souls, and the city being what it is, drug use and such were often part of the package.

— And then what? You shelter random people?

— Basically, yes. For as long as they need to get back on their feet. And as long as they respect the house rules.

— So you do have rules.

— Everyone has. But yes, we do, with time we developed a firm set of them. Are you interested of hearing them?

She was still smiling, but her eyes had that sad countenance again. He wanted nothing more than to say something silly to make her laugh again and chase the sadness away. But no was not the time, he was so close of succeeding…

— Can I have my wand back first?

He sighed at the question. That would have been to easy…

— I am afraid not. You just stumbled on the first rule. For wizard and witches that is.

— I thought you said I was free to leave? She jumped on her feet, her tone was indignant, her feature growing cold and determined.

— I demand my wand immediately.

This was the tone of a woman of power expecting to be obeyed without delay or discussion.

He couldn't help but be impressed. Madam Granger-Weasley was every bit as formidable as Severus Snape had been, and she didn't even need dark billowing robes for that.

* * *

Hi new readers, thanks for favoriting ! It feels like I have been sent flowers by a perfect stranger each time I receive a notification! Hi old readers, thank you for coming back for each chapters, your patience amaze me! Thanks for the reviews, they really keep me motivated and most importantly thank you everyone for reading!  
Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it!  
Tell me what you think, all benevolent feed-back is always welcome!


	11. Chapter 11

Dear Readers, thanks a million for your patience if you are still here! No writer's block, but life got in the way... I was really happy to be able to get back to my favorite pair and their friends though, I hope you'll enjoy it too! Have a good read and a happy day! (Special thanks to Siddharth701 for the cheerleading, it has not been in vain! And if you reviewed when I was in my IRL time-warp, please know that really appreciated you doing so even if I didn't reply personally at the time!)

* * *

God, the man was infuriating.

She had used a tone that had subdued children and grown men alike, forced the respect of the Wizenmagot, and even silenced Molly Weasley on occasions. And yet he was looking at her, seemingly unimpressed. And by the way the corner of his mouth was trembling, she was pretty sure he was attempting to hide a smirk. She refrained from slapping him, opting for glaring at him.

She knew she was being rude to someone who had shown nothing but kindness to her so far, but she couldn't tolerate being wandless one moment more. Especially in the presence of an unknown wizard whose motives she didn't understand and who seemed fully aware of who she was. If anything, his kindness felt threatening.

It all screamed set up. She'd let herself be framed once, she wouldn't be twice. Also, her ruthless successor had not had to work hard to trap her, she had been digging her own grave for a while already when Percy had staged her tardiness and obvious drunkenness to an important meeting, forcing her to resign, and the Wizenmagot to accept it silently. Sometimes she wondered if Molly didn't have an affair with Lucius Malfoy around nine months before her ex-right arm and brother-in-law was born… the idea was ludicrous of course, but the guy was that ruthless. She had to admit that he always did what he believed was right, even if sometimes he missed the mark. Bad pun, Granger, she smirked to herself. That's why she had forgiven him so easily at the end of the war, and she had even admired him for it, once. Before he betrayed her. Or did he? In his view, he was probably doing what was in the country's best interest. He might even have been doing her a favor really. After all, his little scheme had humiliated her in front of a few important people, forcing her into resignation, but it had allowed her to retire without the general public to be aware of the extent of the failure she had become. He had saved her from having to decide too, and by doing so, he had saved their fellow countrymen from her stubbornness. Thanks to him, no more Kingsley's would die uselessly on her less and less vigilant watch… Maybe she should send him flowers at the ministry one of these days. She laughed grimly at the thought.

The sound of her own humorless cackle brought her back to her present predicament. How long had she been standing in front of her host, lost in her thoughts? She really had become an addled mess, hadn't she? But the man was looking at her with an air of infinite patience as if a guest standing to glare at you and laughing alone like a loon was the most natural thing in the world.

— I want my wand, she repeated weakly, her short-lived strength having left along with her righteous anger.

Her heart wasn't in it anymore. Her tone was pleading, and she despised herself for it. She hadn't made it to the highest ranking position by showing weaknesses. She had been the strong one, taking charge for everything and everyone, ever since they'd left Howgart really. When had she become that hollow little thing?

— And you shall have it, admitted the man in a soft voice, if you decide to leave… or according to the house rules.

She sighed, they were going in circles. She longed for a drink. She didn't have the courage to deal with him sober.

— I seem to recall you promised Healer Empoko to consider our talk at least for a day before taking any decision. And you are a woman of your word, I am sure.

Touché.

— I used to be, at least, she muttered.

She slumped back in her chair, defeated.

— Would it reassure you if you could keep an eye on it while we talk? he asked softly, producing her wand and placing it just out of her reach on the table. It was close enough for her to accio it if need be.

She felt her shoulder relax and her whole body releasing a tension she hadn't been aware of.

— House rules, then? She asked as a truce.

— I thought you'd never asked…

His smile was so sweet. He looked so earnest, she could have cried. It was Andy's smile, they were family alright. But it was Luna's smile, Kingsley's too. Remus had had the same earnest smile if bittersweet, and what about the naive versions on small Colin's lips. All those smiles whipped off their face. This world had no place for the kind and smiley. They never survived.

A tear rolled down her cheek. For Merlin's sake, she was crying again. Decades without shedding a single tear, and now, she was weeping, for now, reason every two minutes.

— Well, to begin with, we have absolutely no rules against crying, and a virtually endless supply of tissues, so you can safely stop fighting your tears, Miss… Mrs. Gran-

— Hermione, she whispered, not daring to look at him.

— Hermione, he repeated in this soft low voice. She involuntarily shivered. The man had an amazing voice, he should give talks or lectures, he would easily capture his audience. And she couldn't remember the last time someone had pronounced her first name with such care. She was Madam at works, Mommy or mum for Rose and Hugo, she had to get used to Mionee from the Potter and Weasley clans. She had never liked it, but Ron had started it at a time where she craved his and Harry's affection, and everyone had picked on it. She didn't mind first, it had given her the feeling that she was accepted, that she belonged. But with time it had been tinged with reproach more than affection. And the contrast between the diminutive at home and the distant respect due to her function had grown too big. She had come to feel like she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders at the minister, only to come back home or the Burrow and be treated like she had never outgrown her teenage years. She had never realized it so clearly before hearing her name like that. No diminutive, no adornment, no resentment, no expectations. As if he was not just saying her name, but allowing her to be herself, whoever that was. She wasn't sure anymore.

— Are you called, Hermione?

— No, I… I suppose I not going to call you Uncle Toby?

He chuckled, and she felt his amusement tug at the corner of her own lips.

— Well, you wouldn't be the first guest to do so… but unless you want me to feel even more ancient, I would be glad if you didn't. What about Tobias?

— Tobias, then. You are not ancient, if anything, you look younger than I feel.

Again, his gentle laugh. The sound was heartwarming. She wondered idly if she was responsible for the faint blush on his cheeks.

She could still feel her own cheeks still damp with tears, but here she was, teasing him playfully. He made her feel good. Why couldn't she trust someone else for once, and just go with it?

— Thank you, Tobias.

There, that wasn't so difficult.

— You are most welcome, Hermione. And I mean it. You are welcome here. And you will be for as long as you need or want.

His smile was still creasing the corners of his dark eyes, but she could feel they were back on a serious conversation.

— If and only if I follow the rules.

— Always the quick study.

— I beg your pardon?

— Merely remembering your reputation as the brightest witch of your age, forgive me, I am more used to slow teenagers than grown smart women.

For the briefest moment, she had this nagging feeling that they had known each other in a previous life. But he seemed older enough to not have finished Howgart when she arrived, if he had even been schooled in the UK, he might as well have been already in the US for all she knew. She was about to ask but looked at him and did a double-take. He was blushing for real this time, had he been paying her a compliment in this twisted way? She would have been flattered if he hadn't obviously been about to explain some abstinence rules to the emotional wreck she was.

— What's left of me is not so bright anymore, and you and me both know it.

She motioned him to continue with a hand gesture practiced in years of meetings.

He sighed but complied.

— As I am sure you'll understand, any drug, whatever its form, is prohibited from the place. Either magical or not. Alcohol is, of course, considered a drug. I have a full list somewhere if you want, we have had some creative guests, but I trust you to know better, you are after all not a dunderhead trying to test the boundaries. There is a precedent on cocoa, though, so dark chocolate is tolerated, if not encouraged in moderate portions.

His delivered his speech with an impressive seriousness, but when he mentioned chocolate, she could see the humor twinkling in his eyes. He went on.

— As long as you live here, the only potion you are allowed to take are prescribed by healer Empoko. Kika asked me to assure you that you could call on her whenever you wanted. In fact, she offered you to come and stay with her if you are not pleased with us. But I must warn you, our rules are nothing compared to hers, and more seriously, if as I understood anonymity is important for you, you will be better off with us. Kika lives at the fringe of the magical district, and his much more involved in magical organizations, including a few linked to the Macusa.

Hermione's fingers clenched on her empty mugs.

Her distress must have been visible because he immediately went on to reassure her.

— She is of course sworn to secrecy when it comes to her patients and believe me, we wouldn't be friends if the woman didn't know how to be discreet when needed.

So they were « friends ». Was that a state of affair or a euphemism? And why would you care?

— What about the wand?

— You are not authorized to get your wand as long as either drug or withdrawal after-effect is affecting your magic and your temper. The restitution of your wand will take place on the day you decide to leave, or can be voted prior to that by everyone living under this roof at the time. When unanimity is reached, you get your wand back.

A cat she hadn't seen yet chose this moment to jump on the table. For a split moment, she expected Minerva to join them for tea, but if the resemblance was uncanny, the marking around her eyes and their color were not right.

— Every human living under that roof, that is, precised Toby, picking up the feline to settle her in his lap.

No animagus then. She felt a pang of sadness, she missed Minerva. She had almost thought about seeking refuge with her old mentor, but she had been too ashamed of herself to so. Besides, she loved the woman too much to risk her secret to be revealed, for the media, the headmistress had died from the sickness that had forced her in early retirement. Sometimes, the rumor mill gave birth to useful lies, and not contradicting them was the best way to earn peace and a well-deserved rest. It would only bring undesired attention if the ex-Mom would drop by at her old Scottish estate now to visit the caretaker of house McGonagall.

— That means you get a vote too, Hermione.

Her name caught her attention back and she shook her head to dispel thoughts of her old friend.

— Ho. And the cat doesn't? How unfair.

— Indeed.

— On the other hand, unlike the cat, you are not allowed to hunt or injure animals, he deadpanned. We never got her to stop torturing the neighbor's dog and show a quite mediocre hospitality to spiders, but we ask of our human guests to show more respect to all living creatures. Andy is especially sensitive about the topic, I might add. Speaking of cruelty and bad manners, only cats are allowed it. You can argue, disagree, and fume all you want, but derogatory comments, insults and of course violence, are banned. Including toward yourself. If you do feel inclined to punish yourself like a house-elf, please do find one of us, or call for Kika. Same goes if the need to break any other rules becomes intolerable.

— And how am I supposed to do that without a wand? She blurted out.

A smug smile touched his lips.

— You are Muggle-born, right? Ever used a cell phone?


	12. Chapter 12

— Hermione, he whispered, letting her name roll on his tong in the deserted room. He wondered if he would ever be used to be calling her by her first name. Of course, it was only natural for Tobias, in this context, to be doing so. But for the late Severus Snape, it felt strangely intimate, forbidden even. Even if the bastard had been dead for two decades now, it was obvious that some residual parts of him had been unearthed by the wretched chit. Tobias frowned, his past alter-ego could abuse her all his might in his mind, but he wasn't duped. Though thoroughly broken, she was a smart, desirable woman, and she stirred in him more than buried memories.

If he had the slightest sense of ethics, he would do his best to remember she needed time and space to recover and rebuild herself, not to be preyed on by someone who assured her she was safe more time than was strictly necessary.

Knowing what she had gone through and accomplished, even if only by distant journalist account for the most part, he felt crushed by her present vulnerability. Had no-one been taking care of her while she was taking care of the world? Unthinkable. She was a Weasley now. Even without counting the Potters, she should have been surrounded by a supporting, or more likely overbearing, family circle. Or had they all changed so much after the war? After all, he had changed to the extreme.

She had excused herself to « think about it, as promised » once he had been done rambling about the house rules, habits and traditions as if they still were at Hogwarts. He hadn't wanted to push his advantage, so he hadn't asked yet about contacting her close-ones.

After all, she hadn't said she would stay yet, not officially at least. But she had accepted to go shopping for a smartphone with him. And her wand laid still on the table top, a silent admission.

He smiled to himself and hummed a merry tone stroking Mrs. Mac, she might not have come to terms with it yet, but she was staying. It was cristal-clear to him. And the wishful certainty brought a tad too much joy for comfort.

It shouldn't have been such a good news. Not given how much of the dreaded past she had brought with her. Neither considering the unknown quantity of trouble an ex-official hiding from the Macusa might be.

But he couldn't help but feel relieved about it. _Savior's complex_ , Andy would say. Halas, he couldn't shake the feeling of having less noble reasons to rejoice about it.

Whatever the reason though, he was in a jolly good mood, and that only proved even Hermione bloody Granger and her damned hazel eyes couldn't resurrect Snape completely. « Jolly good mood », Toby was sure, had never even been in the Slytherin spy vocabulary.

He'd be fine, he'll just have to be careful around her. And she'd be fine too, eventually. Moreover, back to the present, Andy was bloody engaged. Time called for celebration. _Pecan-peanut pie or blueberry-lime cheesecake?_ he mused, checking the cupboard to assess his ingredients stores.

Funny how life went. His past-self had been infuriated when the young Hermione Granger had stolen from his personal potion ingredients stocks. Now he would give anything to see her pilfer his kitchen-shelves. Tobias Prince was not as good a cook as Snape had been a Potion Master but not too shabby neither if he dared to say so him-self. In any case, he was a good deal better than the first time he'd been assigned in the kitchen of the No-Maj prison he'd spent his redemptive years as he called them in his mind. Not that he could ever be redeemed, it would be a life-long journey, but it had started there, when he had traded self-inflicted punishment for hope.

Cooking definitely had played a role in the bargain. Prison food was bad enough when cooked by competent people, but he'd taken it to a whole new level on his first try. The thought made him chuckle. He would have probably been mobbed by the other inmates within a week if Andy's father hadn't taught him the basics. Not that he'd cared about being mistreated back then. He had after all let him-self be incarcerated as a stupide way to atone for his past sins, he was convinced then that he deserved it all.

 _As she probably still did now_ , he realized, sobering up. She was punishing herself, that much was clear, but whatever for? As far as he knew, she had never strayed from her moral compass. She had been known abroad as the least corrupt ruler magical Britain had had for a long while.

He opted for a fudge, peanut-butter and pecan pie, a bit heavy for sure, but his host needed it, if she cared for it. The woman was as skinny as a banshee… Not that he was one to judge, despite all the exercise he got nowadays, he would never be the bulky type. Wrong genetics for that, or maybe early childhood malnutrition consequences. But even he had managed to put some healthy meat on his bones.

He went on cooking in a blend of muggle technics and magic optimization. As for potions, he had found out that most ingredients required manual treatment to keep their properties, and their flavors, and he used magic parsimoniously when it saved him time without belittling the taste.

Performing the manual well-known steps of the recipe was almost a meditative practice in itself. It helped him in letting go of the thousands of questions Granger's presence raised.

 _Hermione_. They were on first-name terms now, he'd better get used to it in the privacy of his head if didn't want to be calling her Miss Granger as he nearly did earlier. He had had a couple of terrible slips of the tong during their talk. He should really work on his self-occlumency. He was out of practice, and past habits he thought dead with his past persona were bubbling back to the surface of his mind like Longbottom's cauldron before one of his near-deadly mishaps.

Except it was Headmaster Longbottom nowadays, he supposed the boy had outgrown his propension to blow up the school to get that position. His nomination, though eclipsed by the speculations on Minerva's illness, had made the International gossip page.

He would never have bet that the chubby hazard of a dunderhead would grow into an acclaimed professor. Apparently he was also « the sexiest wizard of the old continent », if one was to believe the inane article that topped the uninformative piece of news about ex-Britain MoM's last diplomatic mission with the Macusa…

He'd despised the journalists from the _New York Ghost_ from his first day on American soil, with nearly as much contempt as he had had for Rita Skeeter. Unfortunately, he had come to relate to them for his international news. And now that he had a first-hand interest in them, he was appalled by their lack of professionalism. All he learned was the press had noticed the disappearance of HGW, and that the Macusa had not wished to comment on it. But he was not even sure there were an official disappearance case and a search warrant, or if her close-ones somehow knew where she was, short of knowing how badly she was doing? He would have to get his information from the source herself, without scaring her away.

To that end, he reflected as the rich smell of the fudge and nuts pie spread through the room, he needed to gain her trust first. He had the feeling that it would require quite some time and patience. She was nearly as damaged as his younger-self had been when arriving in the US. But then, he had been reborn here. Wasn't it the American dream after all?

He firmly intended to show her she could too, if she wished so. He couldn't do it for her, he could barely help, but he could provide a safe place and nudge her from the vicious cycle of self-destruction to the virtuous cycle of recovery and self-improvement.

All they needed to begin was for her to acknowledged she had a problem first. No small feat. But thanks to Kika's deal, they still have the rest of the day at least. And Tobias Prince was as optimist as Severus Snape had been grim.

* * *

A big thank you to all readers for your patience and a special thanks to FrancineHibiscus and Poledne for your continued reviews, it really keeps me going!


	13. Chapter 13

To all wonderful readers who are still following this, thank you for your patience!

* * *

 _What on earth am I doing here?_

Hermione looked dubiously at the old station converted in a hi-tech store, where she had agreed to meet Tobias, somewhere on Prince street.

She had needed to take a walk, to clear her ideas and think about her situation. Of course, that had been a mistake. For one, she had found herself pushing the door of a shady bar without even thinking. And she would have taken a drink there if she hadn't felt so insecure looking at the crowd inside. Probably inoffensive drunks like her, but she had foolishly accepted to leave her wand with her host and she felt naked, vulnerable. It wasn't like her to trust a stranger like that. She had had trust in humankind, among other species, once. But she had outgrown it sometime between witnessing too many useless deaths and getting into politics, causing some more to protect others.

She braced herself against a chill that the people in the street didn't seem to feel. Why did she trust the man with her wand of all things? Something about his patience, the warmth in his voice, his air of kindness. At some point, she had felt herself craving his embrace. Nothing sexual, just being held tight. It had been an overwhelming desire, not unlike the force that usually pulled her to mind-numbing drugs. It was partly why she had left the house, saying hurriedly she would meet him at the store.

He had given her the address, written with a blue ball-point pen on a piece of very muggle lined paper, along with a couple of things in an envelope she hadn't taken the time to look at before leaving. His fingers had brushed hers in the exchange, and she didn't trust herself to not fling herself in the man's arms for contact's sake. He was reassuring, comforting, and she wanted to get lost in that feeling, in that hope. And that scared the hell out of her. More so than venturing in New York city alone and wandless. Up until she found herself on the doorstep of a disreputable bar and reality hit her. Still, turning her heels had not been easy. Some inner voice told her that she would find the courage to face the world without her wand in the bottom of a tumbler. But somehow, she knew Tobias, Andy and Malika would be disappointed. And when it felt as if the rest of the world had already given her up, those strangers had some sort of misguided faith in her. The little girl in her – the Hermione who had always thrived to make her parents, her friends and her teachers proud – sided with the frightened brittle woman, together, they'd manage to drag the wretched alcoholic away from the door.

It had felt too much as a victory for her to ignore what it meant. She had accepted the fight. She had taken up the gauntlet Tobias had presented her with. And this small victory had the bitter taste of capitulation. She needed help. Badly.

The relative strength she had regained during the past few days might have played a role in using her fear to get away instead of drowning it in cheap booze. But now she was feeling weak again. She had found some metro tickets in the envelope and a good old-fashioned folded map of Manhattan. She hadn't realized she was lost without neither magic nor technology to rely on before unfolding the map. Somehow, the metro had seemed too daunting, so she had walk what had looked like a reasonable distance on paper, but had proven way too long for someone whose sole breakfast had been tea and biscuits.

She closed her eyes remembering the delicious fragrance in the place when she'd left. Her host had been baking some cake and the mouthwatering smell of it had followed her down the old wooden staircase. Somehow she could smell it now as if she could literally invoke if from memory.

— Do you care for chai latte?

She opened her eyes, startled to find Tobias standing tall in front of her, thrusting a travel mug under her nose.

— Oh.

— Almond milk, he added.

She accepted, too disconcerted for words.

— Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you there. I thought you might have seen me coming. I also have a little bite if you are hungry, he said producing a small paper bag spreading the very sweet aroma she'd been daydreaming about.

God the man was so thoughtful.

— You left without having eaten anything, and even if they pride themselves on their service, you can sometimes wait for an inordinate amount of time in here he said, nodding toward the glass door.

She couldn't stop staring at him like a bloody idiot. If she'd thought him charming in his kitchen, he was simply handsome in broad daylight. Or maybe she was famished and grateful. She would have to gather herself real soon to stop making a fool of herself.

— Thank you, she eventually blurted. You are…

 _What now? Incredibly handsome in that light? Taller than I realized? The most wonderful being according to my stomach? Too kind to be real?_

She took a small sip of her steaming latte to mask her confusion.

— Very considerate, she managed at last.

— Don't mention it, he said quickly. Shall we?

He motioned toward the huge glass doors again, but Hermione was too busy biting off the piece of fat and sweet goodness he had brought.

She shook her head, trying to convey her answer as she chewed her way through sticky yumminess, convinced she looked like a cow and not giving a damn. She had honestly forgotten food can be that good. Maybe staying off the booze was not all that a bad idea after all. Thank god of for survivor taste buds.

— Mind if I finish that little wonder outside first? She asked after swallowing the rest of her bite.

— Not at all.

His cheerful tone squeezed her heart a little. He was obviously happy she liked his cake. Someone had cooked for her and was happy she liked it.

When was the last time? The first time Rose had asked her grandmother to teach her how to bake a cake for Mommy's birthday probably. Mommy had been late, but at least she had still managed to show up to her own party when her meeting had eventually come to an end. At that point, she had already been a disappointment to her mother-in-law, but Molly hadn't yet entirely sided with Ron and taken over her educational role. In a sense, it was a good thing, at least her kids were safe with their dad and grandparents. Molly and Arthur were of the nurturing type, they wouldn't miss anything even if their mother wasn't in the picture anymore, she thought bitterly.

— Is something the matter? Isn't it cooked enough? Is it the fudge or a bad pecan?

She forced herself to smile at the distressed chef peering at her face anxiously.

— It's perfect, she reassured him. It's even better than my ex-mother-in-law recipe, and that's saying a lot, believe me.

He raised his eyebrows and she thought he was about to comment or ask a question, but he took a sip from his own travel mug instead. A batman mug she remarked, amused.

— Fitting, she said, pointing at the mug.

He froze for a bare instant and she wondered if she'd said something wrong. But his tone was relaxed when he asked.

— Why would you say so?

— Well, I am about to go wandless in a muggle-technology temple with the only wizard I know who is a fan of one of the only muggle superheroes without a single power of his own, who relies only on technological gadgets for his vigilante actions.

He chuckled.

— Very good analysis, ten points to Gryffindor.

She giggled like a teenage girl.

— Where you schooled in Hogwarts too then? Which house?

As she asked, she tried to reframe what she knew about him. Not much apart from the fact he originally came from the UK, had a big heart, charming manners and good cooking skills. Oh yes, that and the fact he was a cat person and loved tea and crosswords. She would answer to this kind of personal ad if she was the sort to date, she joked internally.

— Long before your time, I am afraid. Why don't you guess which house?

— Tough one. I don't know enough about you. And the Sorting Hat sometimes makes weird choices. Hmm, a Hufflepuff maybe? You certainly seem to be the loyal, benevolent and kind sort.

He burst out of laughter. A full belly laugh. So loud people around noticed and stared. A rare occurrence in the busy streets of New-York, there was too much happening all the time for people to really take notice.

She flushed, a little embarrassed by her obvious mistake.

— Ok, then Ravenclaw… she conceded before busying herself with the last bites of her tasty treat.

Still laughing, he produced hankie for her to wipe her hands and mouth, and another one to wipe the corner of his own eyes where small tears had appeared.

— Shall we? He proposed again, walking toward the store entrance when she nodded her approbation.

They were immediately greeted by a toothy latino youth who asked them the purpose of their visit.

Tobias answered they wanted a smartphone and was already walking to the dedicated section before the youth can finish explaining where it was. Hermione smiled apologetically at the girl and hurried after him, a bit overwhelmed by the activity buzzing around them in the huge open space. The place looked like a crossover like a serene beehive and a Benetton add from her childhood as if HR had been keen on recruiting every possible minority. She sighed, it was the muggle-version of her multiple fights in the wizarding world, it seemed that it was easier to accomplish as a private company in your own outlet than as a government…

— First time in an Apple-store? Her shopping partner asked, amused.

— What gave it away?

She smirked.

— Why Apple? She asked before he could answer her rhetorical question. I thought it was very expensive…

And she wasn't going to admit it, but she wasn't exactly flushed, contrary to what he could think, given what he knew of her previous occupation.

— It is ridiculously expensive, but also incredibly user-friendly. As most of our own kind is completely technology-adverse, he continued in a lower-tone, it is the most accessible brand for them, that's why I focused my effort on it. Though I still pride myself on closely following any open-source ventures.

— What do you mean you focused your effort? She whispered back, confused.

— I make no-maj tech accessible to the wizzarding community for a living. Still a niche market, but lucrative enough.

— And a perfect bridge between the two communities she said a little bit awed, connecting the dots with Andy's no-maj job and fiancé, and their muggle-friendly place in a muggle district.

— Precisely. I am glad you think so.

— Ah, Mister Prince!

The voice cut in from above their heads. Hermione lifted her eyes, but she only saw the dark brown of his neck contrasting with his blue uniform t-shirt and had to crane her own neck to eventually see his face.

He looked much younger than she had imagined from his voice.

— Nice to see you again, Man, he said in a lower voice extending his closed fist toward her companion who bumped it with his own, unfazed.

— Nice to see you too, Nick. Glad to see they extended your contract.

— Thanks, I am doing well here! I really owe you. Did you bring me a new client?

He smiled and winked at Hermione who felt herself blush furiously. She was not exactly used to be winked at. Especially not by fit young men half her age and twice her size. Back home, nobody in their right mind would have dared, super tall or not.

— Don't I always do?

— Ha, you are the best Mr Prince. Last model, extra battery, no case, as usual?

— As usual.

The young man typed on his device. Hermione was a bit baffled by their exchange, but not understanding the exact nature of the men's relationship, she didn't dare ask questions. She didn't want to embarrass Tobias. Or Mister Prince, apparently. Tobias Prince. For some reason, the name ringed a bell, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. For a moment she wondered if it wasn't an alias, given what he just described of his activity and the fact the store itself was on Prince street.

Nick assured their order would soon be ready soon.

— How is Andy doing? He whatsapped to the crew he had news but he didn't want to say anything before Amy's party next week… do you know anything?

— I do and I shall respect his silence.

— Don't be so snob with me, you Sir are as much of a tease as this son of a witch.

Hermione did a double-take, did he just say what she think he said?

The young giant winked at the older man and clasped a hand to his ear to listen to a white headphone.

So it was in his habits to wink at older people, she thought, finding her earlier reaction ridicule.

She looked at Tobias, trying to read the answer to all her question on his face. But he had produced his own smartphone out of his pocket and was casually typing.

— Did you denounce me to Andy just now? Asked Nick reporting his attention to them. You'd better not… your order is ready by the way.

A red-hair girl sauntered to them with 2 small packages.

Nick thanked her and went to retrieve some printed receipt under a table. _It's like magic_ , thought Hermione idly. Despite all her fight for the acceptance of the half-blood and muggle-born in the wizarding world, and her various professional collaborations with Muggle leaders throughout times, Hermione had become completely detached from the Muggle reality. Her knowledge of Muggle tech dated from the 90's and she now felt very much like a character from _Back to the Future_. She almost expected to see flying cars anytime soon. _Oh, wait_. She smiled fondly, thinking about Ron's disastrous rescue of Harry, a lifetime ago.

It was already too late when she figured out that Tobias was paying the device for her.

She tried to protest, but he shushed her and said they would settle the matter later.

She tried her best to not let her temper rise. She was not in the habit of letting men she barely knew buy her expensive gadgets, nor to be shushed in public for that matter. But it was not in her interest neither to make a scene and after all, he might have paid only because he didn't know if she had a muggle mean of payment or not. She would clear the matter as soon as they were out of the shop.

— I suppose you don't need the Genius Bar for the setup, surmised Nick giving back the credit card.

Toby acquiesced with a smile.

— We should manage. Thanks, Nicky, and keep up the good work, I am proud of you.

The young man seemed touched by the praise but was interrupted by his headphone again.

— I gotta go and replace a colleague at the Watches. Mr Prince, always a pleasure. Enjoy your new device, ma'am.

He rushed out his farewell and disappeared to the other side of the store, his impossibly long stride carrying him there in record time.

Hermione looked from the sleek designed packaging in her hands and to the intriguing wizard at her side.

— And what now? She asked without eloquence.

As the question left her lips, she knew she wasn't really speaking about their purchase.


	14. Chapter 14

— I am home!

Andy's exuberant cry echoed through the hall, and Tobias jumped back guiltily. He was not sure how he had come to stand so close of Granger again. Hermione. She was playing on her new device and asking questions every few minutes while he was cooking. He would bend over her and show something on the little screen and refrain from inhaling her hair like a perv. Somehow the familiar spicy fragrance of his soap turned into something new and intoxicating on her person.

— Someone is still walking on clouds, she remarked merrily.

And it's infectious.

— Indeed, he said curtly instead, busying himself back in cutting a sizable pile of vegetables for the soup.

He was not sure why he was blushing, but that was disconcerting. He was not feeling himself. Or maybe he was, but then for the very first time.

He'd had a wonderful time that afternoon after the Store. They'd wandered in Manhattan and he'd led her to Central Park when she mentioned the picture of him and Andy eating an hot-dog. They'd more or less recreated the scene, dripping mustard and all, and found a nice bench to begin her education in No-Maj-Tech. He'd brought the magic-canceling-case he'd made for her and discreetly tuned it to her magic. She had been a little awed, which had pleased him more than he cared to accept, and, not so surprisingly very curious of the principles at works. She had asked as many questions as when she was Snape's student, with the same enthusiasm, but with a blend of confidence and humility that the conceited know-it-all had lacked entirely. He'd lectured her on his patent at length and proceeded to unravel the world wide web for her. Most wizards and witches he had trained on the use of this kind of devices were unfazed by the tactile screen, but as a Muggle-born whose parents had owned a dial phone, she had let out the most delighted squealed. If not for the fact she was obviously getting cold after a while, he would have gladly stayed longer on that bench, showing her where to tap, how to swipe. In her eagerness to have him show her, she had nearly landed on his lap. Her thigh had been pressed against his, her upper body nearly in his arms as she was holding the phone under his nose but would throw herself in between regularly to see by herself. He had extended one of his long arms over her shoulders to guide her second hand. She was was so frail…

He flinched out of his thought when two arms encircled his waist and hugged him fiercely. For a split second his memory of the afternoon lingered and he imagined it was her. But the bear hug was way too strong and when he looked down to the hands, they were unmistakably male and brown.

— What did I tell you about surprise hugs and knives?

— Aww, Toby-Daddy… stop being a grouch. Be happy, man, I am getting marrieeeed!

The boy released him as he sang the last words.

— Are you now? I missed that information somehow… he said mockingly dropping knives and wand and wiping his hand on his apron.

— And you decided to stay! cried, Andy. How marvelous!

By the time Tobias turned, his protégé had swiped Hermione in a silent dance. She was blushing and giggling. Happiness could be that simple sometimes. He had no doubt her journey would be long and arduous, and that she would not be smiling all the way as she was now, mirroring his young man's joy. But there, right now, was hope. And he rooted for her all his might.

He had always put all his determination in making those around his roof get better. But never before had hope arose from that place deep within. Something to ponder later. Or maybe not. It seemed way too dangerous.

He fished out his own phone and recorded a few seconds of their silly merry dance. He'd keep it preciously. And hopefully, it would comfort her when she'd be feeling blue.

— Can I get your number? she asked Andy when he deposited her back in the chair she was originally occupying.

— Of course, Dear! Look, give me your phone, I am going to call mine, so I get your numbers, and then I'll send you my vCard, so you have also my email and everything, what about that?

— What? Yes, but you have to explain it all, we haven't covered vCard yet!

As he had noticed several times that afternoon, her voice seemed younger when she was in the eager-learner mode. In this instance, the mixture of excitement and anxiety reminded him strongly of her teenage years. Leave the kids to play, he scolded himself. He went back to his cooking, feeling suddenly his age. Not a common occurrence for him, and not one he was kin on repeating too often.

The soup was simmering nicely and he was pondering if he had time to whisk a peer Charlotte for dessert before the young ones starve or if he should rather pop down the street for ice-cream instead when some of her words caught his attention.

— Hugo would love this! His my eldest. You are young enough to be his brother you know. I have a nephew, Teddy who is almost your age, you made me think about him when I met you. Well, he is not my nephew, technically, he is the adopted son of my ex-husband's sister… she trailed off.

Adopted son of… Lupin's son? She was divorced?

— You miss them, stated Andy gently.

Tobias didn't have to turn to know the boy had taken her hand. Even drowning in his own happiness, he would be attentive to others need and compassionate. He was so proud of the lad. But a small insidious part of him wished he had been the one she confided in. He decided in favor of the Charlotte if only to not interrupt them.

— I do, she admitted in a strangled voice. My kids especially. Rose… Oh my god, they are still so small. And I abandoned them.

— I am sure they know you haven't. When was the last time you saw them?

— I have, and I made sure they know. I was too afraid they'd come after me. I did something terrible.

Tobias froze. She was sobbing now. He turned slowly. She had her face buried in Andy's shoulder, and he tapped her back gingerly. He looked up to Toby, a pleading look on his face. He didn't know what to do with his armful of sobbing woman and as he had ever done, he relied on his mentor to fix the armed soul he had found.

Tobias motioned him to keep talking, he didn't dare to intervene himself at this stage.

— Do you want to tell us what you did? Maybe it would feel less terrible if you shared it.

— Can I have a drink first? she sobbed in his jumper.

Toby shook his head pointedly but Andy knew the rules already.

— I am sorry, Dear, I know you think it would help but it's not true. In the long run, it makes things worse. What about tea? Uncle Toby always says that even if tea can't fix it, it is nonetheless a good beginning. Because, you know, he is one of those people who still use nonetheless, he chuckled lamely.

Tobias rolled his eyes, but silently boiled water while quickly picking dry herbs and flowers from the bouquets suspended to the top shelf. He accioed his smallest mortar to crush them roughly and sent steaming mugs flying toward the table.

Hermione didn't give any sign that she had heard Andy's answer at first. She was obviously fighting her breakdown and struggling. Her whole body was trembling and he was half a mind to send for Kika. Eventually, she managed to subdue her sobs and leaned back in her own chair staring at the damp spot her tears and drool had left on Andy's shoulder.

— Tea, nonetheless, then, she said with a feeble smirk.

Andy smiled at her sadly, and Tobias would have bet he had the exact same expression. They'd live together for so long that they acquired this family resemblance that defied their obviously different genes.

She grabbed one of the mugs and inhaled.

— Oh my, Uncle Toby, you do know your herbs. Chamomile, lavender, passionflower and… is the last kick fennel?

— Wow, you can say just by the smell? asked Andy in owe. I thought you needed a nose like his to be able to pull out this party trick…

— Very funny young man, replied Toby, and a few leaves of peppermint, but the smell is probably overpowered by the fennel, he nodded to Hermione.

— I had a very good potion teacher in school, she explained to Andy.

Tobias stiffened.

— He was forever smelling the fumes in the class, she continued fortunately oblivious to his reaction, he could detect a mistake three feet away just by the faintest change in the combined smell of two dozen of cauldrons. I never mastered this kind of proficiency, but I certainly did train myself all summer to recognize different odors. I was Muggle-born, you see, so I had more access to simple ingredients as those, I also trained with my parent's wine, they were fond of France and its products. Now that you remind me of it though, our teacher also had a fairly impressive nose. No offense, she added as an afterthought with a mischievous smile in Toby's direction that made his heart skip a bit.

Unless that was the fact she had been so close to the mark and yet missed it. He was fairly sure he was sweating by now. Hopefully, she wouldn't pick up on that smell.

— None taken, I assure you, he forced himself to smile casually. Impressive is not the worse qualificative this nose has been given.

She was smiling bravely, but he could see she had not recovered that quickly from her previous breakdown. She was doing her best to hide it. It pained him and reassured him at the same time. It meant she didn't entirely trust them yet, but she was already stronger if she was trying to get her act together.

— But why the fennel? she asked. I mean, I understand, the others are all soothing and used against anxiety but fennel is more used for digestive issues or belly cramps of all origins… oh, I see, she looked down her mug with a sad smile.

She was every bit as smart as he had always imagined her.

— I don't, whispered Andy in his direction.

Tobias shook his head. Not now. But she answered for him.

— Well, anxiety tends to manifest in the belly, you see, a phenomenon my youngest, Rose is well aware of. So the anti-acidic and anti-spasmodic effect of the peppermint and fennel are a smart complement to the anxiolytic properties of the others… but I think here, it's more to sooth the craving born of withdrawal than the anxiety pains, she added in a lower voice.

— Oh. Thanks for explaining, replied Andy gently.

— I went to a bar today, she said matter-of-factly, eyes still in her mug.

Both men tensed. Andy sent an alarmed look to him but he nodded imperceptibly and blinked slowly to soothe him. This was good. A confession was both a sign of trust and acknowledgment of the problem.

— I didn't drink though, she added on edge, a faint defiance in her voice.

— Good, he complimented after a while, speaking slowly and evenly as if taming a wild horse. That was a brave and wise decision. Do you know why you didn't?

For a few seconds of strained silence, he thought he pushed his luck too far.

— I was scared, she muttered.

She left her head fractionally, just enough to look him in the eyes, with such distress on her features that he felt something break inside of him.

— I am freaking scared, Toby, I am completely losing it, she whispered painfully, tears gathering at the corner of her desperate hazel eyes.

And the sobs overcame her again.

She pushed her mug in front of her and let her forehead fall on the table, her shoulder shaking violently as she cried.

He covered her hands with his, and gently pulled the mug she was still holding out. He left his own hands in its stead, and she gripped them as if holding for dear life.

— I need help, she muttered almost inaudibly.

— I know, he whispered back, tracing soothing circles on the back of her hands with his thumbs. I know, and you'll get it. You are not alone. You have us now.

Andy gestured toward the cupboards, and Tobias nodded. The boy quietly set the table beside them, as he was holding the broken woman's hand. Then, he turned off the gas and put a stasis charm on the soup and the half-prepared dessert and went quietly on the small balcony, gesturing toward his phone. He closed the door behind him, and Tobias could only see his back, but he knew him well enough to know he was called Sid.

Tobias didn't move. He was aching to go around the table and enfold her in his arms entirely, but this was enough for now. If she wanted, needed more, she'd seek him. He wanted to be here for her, not to take advantage of her distress.

After a while, he distinguished words in between the sobs, a litany of hiccuped apologies.

— Hermione, listen to me, you have nothing to apologize for to me. You have probably wronged people, that's what dependance does, and you owe them an apology, in due time, when you'll feel strong enough. But the first person you should apologize to is yourself. Not me. I have been in your shoes you know. Well not exactly, there are never two stories alike and we are very different you and me.

He was blabbering. He had developed a certain skill over year to comfort people, boys, and young men especially. But he didn't know what he was telling her. Yet, he could feel that she was calming down when he talked so he continued.

— But I have been a mess too. I know what it feels to be desperate. To flee from terrible deeds. I don't know what you did, you said it was terrible, and I believe you, I would always believe you, but whatever it was, I probably did worse.

Or rather Snape did. The thought gave him pause. He had never confessed, even vaguely, to Snape's crimes as his own, since he went under the name of Tobias Prince. Doing so was unsettling. He wasn't sure he liked it. He hadn't survived the war, he had been born again, if not in any religion glory, in the pit and violence of the American muggle penitentiary system through the unlikely friendship of one complicated man who trusted him with his son's life.

— You can't undo the past, he continued. But you can live it behind you, where it belongs, and start anew.

He wanted to believe his own words, but for the very first time, he was doubting them. He felt like the past he had buried was on his heels. He had thought he was at peace with it all. It had happened so long ago, in another life, to another man. But here, holding Hermione Granger's hand, he wasn't sure who he was anymore. Disregarding his internal turmoil, he continued improvising.

— It won't be easy, hell, it is not easy, but easy has never been for you, has it? But I can assure you that there is hope, Hermione. There is always hope. You just have to fight for yourself for once, and let us fight for you too. Will you let us? You'll see, with time every…

— But why?

He hadn't even realized she had stopped crying before she spoke. This same question again.

— I am not sure, he sighed truthfully, shaking his head. But I am sure you are worth it.

Maybe those were the wrong words or the right ones. But they brought back the tears.

But this time she wiped them, gulped her now cold herbal tea, and got on her feet.

— Do you mind if I take a shower before dinner? I need to be covered in tears that aren't mine.

She was half giggling through her tears. Her brave smile turned her stormy face into a rainbow.

— Of course not! Go ahead, take your time! It will give me time to cook us some dessert, he said as joyfully as he could.

Andy came back in soon after she left.

— We need to talk, he said, closing the door and casting a muffliato.

— Again? Are you not already engaged? asked Tobias a mocking eyebrow raised.

But he could feel the young man was not buying his joke. He sighed.

— Spill the beans, then.

— Well, do you think you could cope without me? With her, I mean? I know I am the one who brought her here, and it would be irresponsible to leave now, but…

— What do you mean you are leaving? You are going to live with Sid? He could both come here you know. We could live entirely No-Maj the time you have your official paper and…

Andy winced, the prospect of the magical revelation was apparently a source of anxiety for him.

— It's not like that… Look, I need to go to India.

— Now? I thought that was for the summer?

— That was the plan, but something happened. His mum has had some kind of accident, he is not sure what, his sister sent word for him against his father's will apparently so he doesn't know much.

— Oh, I am sorry to hear that. Of course, you would want to go with him, but are you sure it's the best moment to break the news given what he said about his family?

What a dreadful situation for the young couple. He could picture hospital corridors and broken families all too easily. He felt his belly cramp for his son, this was not how he had hoped him to meet his in-laws. Admittedly, before the previous dinner, he had never given the topic a thought, but still. He cast a rapid heating charm on his own abandoned mug and downed it in one gulp.

— I don't know, probably not, but I want to be here for him. I am going to marry him, you know, I should be there when it's tough, isn't that the purpose of marriage?

— I wouldn't know, son, you have exceeded all my experience in matters of love, I believe, I am an old bachelor stuck in his ways, he said more lightly than he felt to bring back a smile to Andy's lips. He ruffled his hair for good measure.

— That's something I never really understood about you, the young man said pensively. You know, I speculated for a very long time that you were closeted? Kika said it was not true, though, now I believe her. You are clearly smitten with Jea… Hermione, I mean.

— Smi… you talked about my sexual orientation with Kika?

He had to make a conscious effort to close his hanging mouth. Sometimes it's better not to know. As for the smitten part, better not to dwell on that now.

— When would you be leaving?

— In two days, we found some tickets, but we need to settle our affairs first. I need to tell the guy at the café and everything.

— How long would you be there?

— No idea. We didn't book return.

Tobias blanched, he had the feeling Andy wouldn't be back anytime soon.

— I see. Come here.

He opened his arms and Andy hugged him with much less exuberance than before.

— I am going to miss you dunderhead.

— I'll miss you too, old grouch.

They stayed like that a few seconds until Andy pulled out, as he recalling something.

— There is something else, he said soberly.

— It can't be worse… can it?

— Well, I don't know… I am not sure how important it is, but Ella, you know my friend who does her internship at the _Ghost_ , she said there was a big fuss at the Macusa today after that Harry Potter guy arrived. He is related to Hermione, right? I thought you should know. Are you ok? You don't look well.

And he was not feeling well indeed.

— Oh, good. So it could be worse. I should have known.

* * *

Welcome new readers and a huge thank you for still being there to those who have been following for a while! Your reviews keep inspiring me and making me happy, please keep them coming!  
Hope you enjoyed this one despite its length and the emotional roller-coaster!


	15. Chapter 15

Hey, you still there? Wow, you are a hero with the patience of angels.

This Fic is still alive despite its long coma...

Unedited, unsupervised and still no rights, the usual.

Enjoy!

* * *

— Oh man, I am so going to miss this, moaned Andy over his dessert plate.

His surrogate father smiled sadly. The more she saw them interacting, the more she thought about them as father and son. Even if it had not always been the case, nor was it the way they presented themselves.

She ached for the poor man, he was putting on a brave face, but she somehow could feel how worried he was. A parent's worry. That's how she knew he was as much a father as she was a mother. And he was doing a much better job than her. For merlin's sake, she missed them so much. Without neither muggle nor magic drugs to numb the pain and justify her actions, living with her-self seemed unbearable.

And yet, something in those two and their close ones was giving her the tiniest flicker of hope. They seemed like decent human beings, more than that in fact. And for whatever reason, this young man had decided to pick up the piece of junk she was and place his faith in her.

The shower had settled her nerves a bit, and she'd wanted to put on a bright smile to match up Andy's exuberant mood for the dinner. Only to find his smile didn't quite reach his eyes anymore when they sat down to eat. And even if Tobias was better at schooling his features, he also seemed particularly worried.

They were the open sort though, they didn't pretend. If they were still doing their best at smiling at each other, it was not to hide anything, but out of care for each other. Andy had explained Sid's predicament to her while they served a pumpkin soup.

Pumpkin soup with fresh coriander, roasted pine nuts and a dash of rice cream for starters, the chef said. Toby had explained that pumpkin soup had long been a go-to soothing option for them. His initial hope was she'd enjoy it, he said. But after Andy's news, he was even happier with his menu as they could all do with extra-comfort. The man was way too sweet to be true. And a freaking good cook. The ministry's chef could take lessons. Even her ex-mother in law couldn't rival.

Everything Molly cooked was tasty and deeply comforting. But Tobias cooking so far had always had this little extra twist. Extra care, as if a simple recipe could never give him satisfaction. And if this was their ordinary, she could very well see how Andy would sincerely miss it.

After all, Ron had never gotten over having to leave his mum's cooking behind. And now he was back under Molly's care, and Hugo and Rose would swear by her cooking as much as their dad and uncles. The thought was bitter-sweet. It was a relief to know that they would be raised by competent and nurturing people. Much better than by their incompetent junkie of a mother. But it only had salt on the open wound that her own failure was.

— Don't be silly, replied Tobias. India is one of the most flavorful corners of the globe! By the way, I insist on you bringing back spices when the situation will be better there.

Andy chuckled.

— Duly noted, Sir. You'll have to app me your wishlist. But I doubt we'll get round to shopping any time soon, you know. Sid really has difficulty talking about his family, so I am not quite sure what to expect there… But the poor love sounded seriously distressed. I am afraid that the situation is even direr than what he told me… Anyway, I'll keep you posted.

— I know you will, replied Toby with a sigh. And I dearly hope you'll soon send us pictures of a romantic visit of the Taj-Mahal, once the mother of your intended will have recovered.

— My intended… repeated the young man with a smile that went up to his eyes for the first time since they sat down to eat. I love the sound of that!

Hermione couldn't help but smile along. The young man's _joie de vivre_ was contagious even when he was feeling down mere seconds before.

The conversation rolled with more lightness after that. Toby inquiring after Andy's last minute logistics and the young man making his best effort to sound mature and in control when he was obviously improvising answers on the fly to practical problems he had'n't thought of yet. Both men naturally included her in their back and forth, asking her opinion or commenting each other's character to her benefit.

There was a really domestic ring to the conversation and once again, Hermione was fascinated to be part of it. Those people were strangers and yet they were baring their lives and worries in front of her without a care. More than that, they behaved as if she belonged. As if she was family.

The feeling was bitter-sweet. It made her both fuzzy in the belly in a way booze had never managed to quiet replicate and desperately sad. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt accepted like that.

It's not that she was not integrated in the Weasley clan, it's just that it had always been conditional. Harry and Ron had become her friends because she had lied for them. And then, she had always felt she had to be strong and smart for them. Make sure they don't break too many rules or don't get caught. Make sure they got their passing grades or survive maniacs.

Of course, Arthur and Molly had embraced her as one of their many children, but not before she became Ron's girl-friend. And as supportive as her in-laws had been, she had always and would forever side with her son and reproach her all her shortcomings. The worse thing was Hermione could completely relate to that. If she had been the mother she wanted to be in the first place, she would have been as protective as Molly. But she had failed at being a mother even more dramatically than she had failed to rid Magical Britain of corruption and evil. She had been so naive to believe she could make this much of a difference in the world her kids were living when she was not even able to be on time for their bed-time story, or their first dance gala, their first tiny broom-flight…

She could feel the tears forming at the corner of her eyes again and was not even able to tell which one of the men had asked her a question, but they looked at her as if they were expecting an answer. And by the way, both of their features soften in an eerily similar fashion, she knew they had both spotted her distress.

The wood-burner came to life in the living room behind them, saving her from further scrutiny.

— Tell me I didn't miss the desert? asked the genial healer while extracting her-self from the contraption which had apparently been enlarged since Hermione's arrival but not enough for confort if Healer Empoko's grunt were anything to go by.

— I thought we agreed I would keep it connected for _emergencies_ , Tobias admonished her, stressing the last word.

— This is an emergency! The kid is going half-way across the planet and you made a charlotte! replied the woman, completely unfazed.

— So you do read your WhatsApp, commented Andy.

— Yeah, I am too busy to reply to all your wazzup non-sense boys, but you got me at the little cake-shaped emoty-thingy.

Tobias was listening to their exchange with a lifted eyebrow as if he had not been aware of the invitation Andy had made. But he was already taking it in stride and adding a fourth desert plate to the table.

Hermione only now realized the main course had disappeared and everything that went with it had disappeared from the table already. She must have tuned out longer than she thought.

She watched her new healer hug both men in turn with easy familiarity and wondered how to greet her. Once again feeling like she was intruding on a private gathering. But the woman didn't hesitate and bent toward her chair to engulf her in the same hug.

Hermione was too surprise to reciprocate at first but gave up when the other woman whispered in her ear.

— How are you holding up here, kiddo?

The tears that had been gathering broke loose then and she felt her arms closing around the healer's shoulders and hold there for dear life.

— Fiii…fine, she hiccuped ridiculously.

— Ho yeah, I can see that dearie. Don't worry, it's ok. Let it all go. Life hurt like hell sometimes, but it doesn't last. I'd tell you that you'll feel better after crying, but that would be a lie, you will have puffy eyes, sore muscle from cramping, a runny nose that never stops and you'll probably need to pee quite quickly too. Nah, crying is ugly. But not crying is worse. It only delays the ugly part and cause a whole lot of damage on the way to any way get to the ugly runny nose syndrome, so you might as well save your-self some times and go straight down to business…

As the woman was patting her shoulders and babbling in her ears, Hermione felt her sobs transform into an irresistible laugh. She idly wondered if she was becoming bipolar or if it was those people sense of humor that made her laugh so much when she was feeling so bad. The healer didn't seem concern with her change of mood though and was now laughing with her, quite loudly at that.

When they calmed enough to disengage from their embrace, they turn to face the men rolling exchanging eye-rolls at their antics.

— So, Toby, tell me, isn't that providence? One is leaving the nest but another one decided to stay? asked Kika over the plate he was handing her.

— I didn't… started Hermione.

But something flickered in her host eyes and the words died on her lips.

She didn't what? Want to stay? She hadn't even given it so much thoughts. She had promised she would. But she had been to busy playing at being part of their tribe and holding private self-pity party in her head for that.

— I am not leaving forever, Andy cut in. Hopefully, you'll all still be there when we'll come back. Plus Uncle Tobby said Sid and I could both live here for a while, so…

— Na-ha. Andy, love, this is the least romantic thing you scheme you can propose to your fiancé, you know… If you're getting married for real, you have to take your independence.

— Kika, stop trying to get the boy to rebel against me, it's getting old…

— I don't have to try anything, the boy is a grown-up now in case you missed it. I am just saying that…

— What do you mean « if I am getting married for real »? asked Andy with mock outrage.

And while his Aunt Kika was busy explaining her meaning and bickering with Tobias, the young man addressed an amused wink to Hermione.

He had masterfully shifted the topic and attention to him-self to spare her. How much grateful could she get?

After the delicious dessert, Hermione let Kika led her away for a quick check-up. Despite her increasing respect for the woman, the more she listened to her chat and banter, the more difficult she found calling her Healer Empoko. As if the formality didn't suit the woman and her charisma was strong enough to not require title.

Even Shackelbolt or Percy who knew her well wouldn't have dared calling her any other name than Madam or Madam Minister in front of their colleagues or any other public context. Even Harry stood on formality when they met on the job, though it obviously cost him. Of course, him, like Percy and Arthur, reverted to the hate Mionee as soon as they were at the Burrow. Only Kings would sometimes use her name in-extenso, usually when he was trying to convince her of something.

Kings had been her most trusted ally in her rise to governance. And she had sent him to his death with her insistance that they had a duty to protect the Muggles. He had stood by her when she was already starting to loose it and she didn't even know he and Luna had kids together. She never asked. She used him. She used him and got him killed. She was the most terrible human being on…

— … planet Earth, do you copy.

Kika clicked her fingers in front of her eyes, snapping Hermione out of the morbid spiral of thought she looped back to again.

— Sorry. I was far away, she mumbled sheepishly.

— I gathered. It's okay, kiddo. Exhaustion and withdrawal would do that to a woman, you know. But I need you to know what you decided, she asked softly while taking her pulse manually.

— Why don't you use diagnostic spells?

Hermione knew she was avoiding the question by asking another, but she was genuinely curious.

— I feel much more with my bare hands than with my wand, but don't you worry, I ran plenty of diagnostic-spell on you when you were out and I am going to run a few more once you answer my question, now that you are not playing at No-Maj anymore…

— I was not playing… I didn't realize I was amongst wizards. It seems obvious now though but…

— But your sense were a bit less sharp than usual. Got it. You are still avoiding the question. Look, I am not asking you if you want to commit for life, that question was for Andy, the little fool. I just want to know what you want to do tonight. I just want to make sure that you are either staying there, coming with me, or know what you are doing, because you are not strong enough to be on your own just yet. I don't want to scare you dearie, but the street of New-York aren't safe enough for a woman with a magic as depleted as yours. And I am not even talking about relapse here.

The Healer's tone was not judgemental in the least, but Hermione could had the moral judgment on her own alright. She gazed intently to the ceiling, feeling her cheek flushed with shame and trying to stop the tear of humiliation from falling. What had she become?

— It's okay, kiddo. I told you already, tears are ok.

— But I am not a kid anymore…

Her voice was pitiful. She let the tears fall again and with them, all her energy left her. She stumbled back to the bed and sat there, deflated.

— I'll stay here, she said after a while.

She was as much admitting it to her-self as answering. She had let Tobias buy her the damn phone anyway, and her wand had stayed with him the whole day.

— Good. If I were you, I'd settle here for a while. The time to get back on your feet and clear your head. I don't know what's your situation, but I do know that you'll need help and here is one of the best place to get it. Granted you are not the usual style of the house, but Toby has plenty of experience to support someone going through Paws and you'll need this kind of support. There is no need to walk that road alone. And believe me, he'll need someone home with him as much as you'll need him, with the kid flying out of the nest out of the blue like that… don't tell him I told you, but he is worse than a mother-hen, the empty-nest syndrome is going to hit him big time… and as he is already cooking and doing yoga, I am not quite sure what coping mechanism is left for him…

Kika was obviously trying to make her laugh again by mocking the poor Tobias but Hermione chuckled half-heartedly, trying to process what her life had become.

She had had a plan, when she accepted her last diplomatic mission from Percy. And this plan had not really involved being saved.

— What do you mean going through paws?

— Post-acute withdrawal syndrome. In case you wonder, you are nearly there kitten, nearly out of the acute phase as far as I can tell.

— Ha ha. I'll have you know that I have indeed been a kitten in an other life and that was far from my most glorious moment.

— Oh really? Do tell! What happened, animagus training gone wrong?

— Nope, polyjuice gone awfully wrong. To my defense, I was really young…

By the time she finish recounting this incident of her youth that seemed so far away and inconsequential nowadays, Kika had finished her diagnostic and left a few vial with notes on her night stand.

 _As if it was_ my _bedroom_ … she scoffed internally at how fast she was appropriating the place now that she accepted she was staying, for the night at least.

She should have gone to bed right away, but she recounting this ridiculous incident of her youth had soothed her nerves and kept the dark thoughts away and she was not eager to see them back, so she followed Kika back to the living room to join the others for tea.

When Tobias placed a steaming mug under her nose, she didn't have to ask, she recognized the soothing mix. And she knew right away that he had brewed a different one for each of them, according to their needs.

When she took the mug from his hands, their fingers brushed again, and she marveled at the deep craving for human contact the sensation awakened in her each time.

She couldn't remember the last time Ron had touched her, even by chance. If he had something to give her, he would just levitate it to her, it would never cross his mind to hand it down to her.

So, the only touch they had shared had been intentional. But intention had faded away along with desire and tenderness.

— Love you, whispered Andy to his phone upon entering back in the living room from the balcony.

Hermione smiled. Young love. It had been swift to fade away from her marriage too. If it had ever been there in the first place, she was not sure anymore. She had loved her parents without the shadow of a doubt, she loved her kids more than anything and that's why she had taken the most difficult decision of her life to disappear from theirs but had she ever loved Ron more than she loved Harry, Ginny, Kings or Minerva? At some point before her heart became hollow and dry like it was now, she had loved all her friends, she had loved her country, she had loved the magical community. She had had enough love for the whole world. But had it ever been what she could see in Andy's eyes?

It could probably have been, without the grief, the reconstruction, all the battles left to fight. She had thought she had a duty.

 _Foolish, foolish girl. What did you think you could achieve alone?_

Kika was teasing mercilessly Andy on his reaction to the proposal the day before and Hermione was content enough to let the conversation roll over her.

She caught Tobias eyes a couple of time. He was observing her as much as she was observing him. She wondered if he was equally pondering about her potential stay in his place. Was he regretting his proposition already? Or was he happy to have a new social project as his friend has inferred?

She lost track of the conversation entirely, lulled by the voices. At some point, someone took the mug from her hands and she didn't resist. She just curled up on the old Chesterfield armchair she was sharing with Miss Mac.

— Aren't they cute like that, the two kitten? Did you know that this one told me she got herself turned into a human sized cat when she was a teen?

She grunted while hearing Kika's comment but didn't find it in her to open her eyes. She was too comfortable. Especially since someone had placed a plaid over her. She drifted to sleep while the other chatted amiably.

When she opened her eyes, it seemed to be much later. The only source of light was a flame in a jar on the coffee table, the kind she was so fond of in Hogwarts, but orange rather than her trademark blue. It was enough to make her blink.

She could barely discern the outline of Kika and Tobias discussing in low tones on the sofa. Andy must have left already.

She was about to drift back to sleep when a name caught her attention.

— Hold on, so why are you worried about that Potter guy? Isn't that a good thing if a friend comes for her? Or is it because he is with the MACUSA?

— Indeed.

Hermione stopped breathing. She shut her eyes as tight as she could. _Oh, Harry, why do you always have to play the knight in shiny armor? Couldn't you let me disappear in peace?_

Maybe it was all a bad dream.


	16. Chapter 16

When Tobias entered the kitchen after his morning routine the next day, he had a shock. A skinny silhouette in an overlarge t-shirt sporting a buzz cut was preparing tea.

Her back was too him and she looked like a young boy like that, all skinny limbs and no hair. He scoffed, recalling Andy teasing him about the "new boy".

He was disabused of the notion when she turned to face him. Without the hair framing her face she looked younger but indubitably feminine. Her hazel eyes appeared to be even larger and more intense. And as over-sized as the NBA t-shirt was, it clung to her curves in ways he ought not to be ogling right now.

He swallowed.

— You don't like it, she said anxiously, biting her lower lip.

He had to swallow again. He had to gain some measure of control over him-self or this slip of a woman was going to be the end of him very soon. Though she might not be staying very long now, he reflected.

— I see you found an old T-shirt from Nick.

— Nick from the store?

— Indeed.

— His he a wizard then? I wondered.

— Squib. He lived here for a bit, a few years ago.

— I see…

— It's lovely.

The words were out of his mouth before he could think them over.

— Oh, thanks, I guess. It was a good size for a nightdress, and as I couldn't transfigure…

— I meant your hair.

— Ho.

— How did you do it though? I didn't realize we had the means to do that in our bathroom.

— You don't. I woke up in the middle of the night and I had a bit of a crisis, she confessed with a sheepish expression. I made a mess of it with a pair of scissors. Saw Andy before he left this morning, he helped me out. Said he had seen you perform that spell on him and the other boys often enough.

— Well, he didn't lie. As I said, it suits you.

— It's nice of you to lie, she said with a defeated tone, but you shouldn't bother, I know that I look terminally ill like that.

She turned back to the tea, her shoulders slumped.

He had to refrain to cradle her in his arms.

— For what it's worth, I do think you are lovely with a buzz cut too, and I am not used to be called a liar.

 _Are you not, lucky bastard? But the person she knew was the master of lies… Oh, do shut up, Severus._

That was it, he was turning crazy. He was turning in a lecherous old man and a schizophrenic one to bout. And to top it all he had to tell her about Potter over tea. Brilliant.

This day couldn't start any better.

He sat at the kitchen table bracing against the inevitable confrontation to come.

She deposited two steaming mugs on the with a clatter. She was shaking. His first thought was withdrawal symptoms, but when he lifted his gaze to her face, he saw her lips were trembling too.

It could have been another kind of symptom. But somehow he knew it had more to do with his inadequacy at handing compliment. Her words only confirmed his intuition.

— I didn't mean to imply anything, I just…

— I apologies. I don't know what came over me, I know what you meant. I even get why you would not see in the mirror what I see in you. To be honest, I am pretty impressed with you. Being able to look in a mirror took me years. Let alone stop judging what I saw in it. You'll learn to stop judging yourself so harshly with time, but the simple fact you did look is already quite a show of will-power for someone in your predicament.

— For a depraved addict you mean, she spat bitterly.

— For a six days sober recovering addict, yes.

— Six days?

She seemed crestfallen at the revelation.

— Yes, it'll be a full week tomorrow. Believe me, it's a serious milestone Miss Granger, nothing to be sniffed at.

 _Oh shite_. He'd did it again. Somehow the patronizing address had flowed from his lips as he struggled to keep his temper in check. Severus had been prone to anger issues, Tobias was not. He refused to be.

But he had a blissfully clueless Hermione freaking Granger barely dressed in an oversized t-shirt in his kitchen and the feeling Harry bloody Potter was going to burst through his door any moment to rescue her from the greasy bat of the dungeon and traitor extraordinaire.

It was apparently enough to crack the varnish acquired by years of a redeemed life.

— A week… she repeated, aghast.

Good. Once again she seemed too out of it to notice his blunders. He just needed time. She would make 1+1 at some point, it was inevitable. But by some miracle Potter didn't ruin everything, he might have enough time to gain her trust before she realized who he had been.

— That's why Harry can already be there then… she mumbled as if she was solving a complicated math equation.

How did she know?

— Excuse me? I quite didn't catch that.

— Harry Potter, one of my best friend. I heard you mention his name to Kika yesterday. You said something about the MACUSA. He is the head of the DMLE back home, so of course, he could be pulling strings and calling in favor at MACUSA if he thought I was in danger. Though after our last interactions, I didn't think he'd make the effort. I have not been the best of friends lately, she added rather lamely.

He risked non-committal nod to encourage her to go on, reassessing the situation. How much had she heard of his conversation? Why had he discussed such things without casting so much as a Muffliato?

Because it's not polite to cast a Muffliato on your guest maybe, Toby? But then discussing your guest behind their back isn't either. Especially when the said guest is a fully grown woman.

— Were you worried the MACUSA would come after you for hiding me while I was signaled as a missing person? I will not let them give you any grief, you know. I appreciate all your efforts to not reveal my identity and not calling in the press and I'll…

He put one his hand over hers and it miraculously stopped the flow of words.

— Do you want to speak to your friend, to Mr. Potter?

— Not really. He was not supposed to come. They were supposed to think I was dead. It would have been better that way.

Her feeble attempt at a smile made something awful to his heart.

— I sent a transatlantic letter to my ex-husband, the old fashioned way, not your new muggle-wizard technology. I suppose something went wrong with my mail, or more likely he didn't even bother to open it…

— Why would you pretend to be dead?

— I wondered every day. Why pretend? Right? Because deep down I am a coward. Whatever Gryffindor courage the old hat saw within me when I was a kid didn't survive the trials of years of failures upon failures. I just couldn't tie the knot. And at some point, I figured out the slow poison would get me anyway… you know…

She was not crying. She was baring with a chilling clarity her most sincere suicidal thoughts without a single tear. The contrast with the emotional upheaval of the previous day was disconcerting. But her words found so much echo in a forgotten part of him that he replied with a voice thickened by emotion.

— I do know.

She looked up to him, their eyes met and she seemed to dive right through his, straight to his chore.

If had not known by heart the feeling, he'd had thought she was attempting Legilimency.

He was shocked to realize that, had it been the case, he might not even have had the wish to occlude.

Whatever she saw in his eyes, it seemed to confirm his words.

— You do know, she repeated, turning her hand under his to lock her fingers through his.

— Hope.

— I beg your pardon?

— You are not a coward, Hermione. You just always had hope. Hope is what drives us. Hope that one day, the world will be rid of evil. Hope that one day, we might get rid of its taint on our very own soul. There is always hope in the end. That's was makes us what we are. And that's that flicker of hope who drives us to survive even when we are killing ourselves slowly…

He was not sure where those words came from. They were neither Severus' nor Tobias'. And yet the experience of both intertwined.

— Hope, she said raising her mugs with her other hand.

— Hope, he answered soberly, imitating her.

She nodded slowly.

— What do we do regarding Mister Potter?

— Are you sure he knows where I am?

— No, I just know he arrived in town yesterday. I live a discreet life for many reasons, but I am unfortunately not untraceable, it's a matter of time before he finds us. We could, of course, vacate the place now…

— You speak like a spy.

— I beg your pardon?

He gulped.

— Don't mind me, occupational hazard. You don't seriously mean to leave your place. I easily could, but why would you.

— I thought you had decided to stay with us.

— I thought that meant here, not in a secret location. What do you have, Bruce Wayne, a bat-cave?

She knew, didn't she? If she didn't, her humor was infuriatingly close to home. It was putting him on edge.

— I am afraid not. We do have a cabin in Maine though. No bat-mobile to reach it I am afraid though. I can only offer you side-along in several hops or Greyhound.

— A grey hound?

— The bus.

— Ho. I see. I haven't been a muggle for too long…

— Or you haven't been this side of the ocean long enough.

— Possible, she conceded.

If they were not losing precious time, he would have found her dubitative pout adorable.

He felt the warning of his wards downstair. But she jumped when the shrill sound of the intercom echoed in the flat, letting go of his hand and spilling half of her tepid tea on her lap in the process.

— Your decision? He asked urgently.

— Is it him?

He fished his smartphone in his pocket and opened the app connected to the intercom.

A much older and more tired Harry Potter than he remembered was looking at him, escorted by two Aurors from the MACUSA.

He showed her the phone.

Despite the urgency of the situation, he couldn't help but feel proud at the flicker of awe he saw in her reaction. Her appreciation of his skills was not unpleasant.

But her face closed up as soon as she assessed the situation on the screen.

Potter pressed the button again, this time she barely flinched.

— Can you tell him to come alone? she mouthed.

— He can't hear us yet. I can try. Is that what you want?

— I think it might be wise.

— Might I suggest that you put on some, huh, day clothes?

Her blush was delightful. He would have appreciated it more if he hadn't felt his own cheeks burning.

He touches the green button on the screen and spoke.

— Hi.

— Hello, Mister Prince, is it?

— Yes.

— Mister Potter here. I wondered if I could ask you some questions…

— We don't answer to marketers.

Hermione had conceded to speak to the man, but he saw no reason to make it too easy for him after all. He still had a bad feeling about it. Probably just the ghost of old prejudice, though.

— Look, I swear I don't want to sell you anything. I am just worried about a friend and I was told you could help me out.

He looked behind him to the two horrors in No-maj clothing. Or what was the No-maj mode of the MACUSA, a grey suit and crisp white shirt that made them immediately identifiable stand out like a sore thumb in most districts? Tobias could never fathom how unobservant and ill-educated magical law enforcement could be around the world.

— Sir, pleaded Potter, I'd appreciate your help. Once more, he added _sotto voce_.

The little bastard. What did he mean by that? He did know, then.

— Might I ask if it is really necessary to come up with your escort for an amicable chat?

— I'll come alone.

He spoke to the two men, a few words were enough for them to disappear around the corner of the street. The man had obvious authority, MACUSA agents didn't like to take orders from foreigners, as high-ranking as they may be in their own country. If he was a betting man, Tobias would say the Aurors didn't go further than a few meters though.

— Sixth floor.

Without further ado, he buzzed the man in.

On an impulse, he ran to the antic lift and called it before Potter could.

He pressed the third-floor button and went to meet the golden boy.

Of course, he wasn't a boy anymore. He had outlived his parents by so much that it was impossible now to see his father in him. He still had his mother's eyes of course. But what concerned Tobias where the recognition he saw in them. He did know.

— It is you, then, whispered the man with an emotion Tobias struggled to identify. When they gave me your name, I didn't dare to hope… You look… different?

Tobias scoffed.

— Alive, maybe?

— That too, Potter replied good-naturedly.

— I'd appreciate if you didn't mention it upstairs.

— If I… do you mean… she doesn't… she's here?

By the end of his stuttering, he seemed to remember the reason for his visit.

— Yes, follow me.

Not wanting to ride the old lift squeezed chest to chest with Potter, Tobias took the stairs. He was ungraciously proud when he heard the younger man puffing behind him and slowed down his pace for his sake.

— How is she, asked Potter catching his breath on the fifth landing.

— How do you expect?

— That bad, huh?

— You knew her state and it took you that long to find her? Remind me of your job, Mr. Potter?

— I take back what I said, you haven't changed that much… he grumbled. I didn't come all the way here for a lecture.

— You'd be surprised, M. Potter, you'd be surprised…

When they reached the door, Hermione seemed to still be in her room.

He gestured Potter toward the living room.

— Would you like some tea? He proposed more by habit than anything.

Potter mouth hanged for a second before he replied.

— Huh, yes, please. No, actually. If you don't mind, I'd love a coffee if you had some. They gave me something vaguely black at the MACUSA but it had more water than…

Tobias didn't listen to the rest, he busied himself with preparing a coffee and a new batch of herbal tea for Hermione.

So, Potter had recognized him immediately, but then he seemed to have recognized his name beforehand. A connection Granger had yet to make. How the hell did he know? Did he look him up in the DMLE files recently enough to remember?

Of course, his new identity wouldn't be a mystery for the ones who had actually known the late Severus Snape on British soil, but less and less of them were alive to begin with. And living on the fringe of the American magical and non-magical community, he'd gotten used to his anonymity. Nobody so far had come looking for him.

— Mionee?

The strangled voice betrayed Potter's shock when his friend appeared in the room.

— Hi Harry.

— What happened to your… never mind. I am glad to see you.

— Are you?

— I am. How are you doing?

She shrugged.

Tobias gently coughed to not startle her before giving her steaming refilled mug and handing his coffee to Potter.

— Milk? Sugar?

— No, thank you.

Hermione lifted her eyebrow at Potter's answer as she sat on the armchair she had fallen asleep in the night before. Tobias stayed standing at her side, leaning against the armrest.

— I am trying to cut down the sugar. My hm, personal healer, was quite adamant it was a bad idea to continue at this rhythm.

— Well, for once he and I agree. How is he doing?

Tobias observed the scene with much curiosity, trying in vain to make sense of the exchange.

— I haven't seen him since your little outburst about him in front of my wife.

— I am so sorry Harry. I was…

— Drunk. I know. I regret not having realized how bad you had it then.

— And what made you realize then?

— Luna.

The name made Hermione shiver. Tobias put a reassuring her on her shoulder and she patted his fingers absentmindedly.

He saw Potter narrowing his gaze on the gesture. Was it strange to comfort her?

He suddenly felt self-conscious and didn't know if he should leave his hand or not.

— What did she say?

— She said you needed help from new friends to cause all the old one had stopped seeing you. That you needed to know it was not your fault. That the bad men would try to frame you. That you should beware of whatever creature lurking in New-York's cellars… I don't recall verbatim but you get the gist. Luna, you know her style. I had no idea what she was going on about and I won't lie, I didn't care. I was still angry with you. Ginny is filing for a divorce by the way. And she gently took upon herself to call Astoria.

So many questions and hypothesis were running into Tobias' head now. Years of reading the European columns in inane American newspaper were flashing before his eyes. He didn't dare jump to conclusions.

— Up until the next day. One of Percy's goon showed up in my office and gave me a file about Kingsley's death.

He looked up to Toby and averted his gaze, hesitating to continue.

Tobias squeezed Hermione shoulder gently before retracting his hand, ready to make a tactful retreat. It was one thing to ponder gossip and if wether or not precious Potter was nowadays shagging his long ago godson, but quite another to intrude in a conversation between officials about a murder case. But before he could leave, she reached up for his hand again.

— You can stay Tobias. You've been so helpful, you might as well know who you are helping out. If you don't change your mind by then, we could discuss the house rules again.

Potter blinked at that but took his cue to continue.

— Everything in the damn filed implied that you knew where you were sending Kingsley the day he died, that you had even paid to make it look as Muggle terrorism, to serve your collaborative agenda. That you didn't hesitate to get innocent killed to advanced your goal. It also leaked medical information. Quite a lot of access to restricted potions you got over the years. I think I was supposed to deduce there that Kingsley had discovered your drug abuse and was trying to stop you, that was your motive to have him killed.

— I thought that was my collaborative agenda…

— That too.

— Why are you telling me?

— Because you look sober enough to listen, which is a first since you resigned.

Bastard.

She flinched but didn't lose her cool. He was quite impressed with her.

— Fair enough. But you didn't answer my question. Why are you telling me when you should be interrogating me.

— I am not sure what Percy's playing at, I am not even sure he is aware of the end game. But I don't like to be played like a pawn. I had enough of that for a lifetime when we were in school.

He said that looking straight at Tobias but Hermione missed it, apparently deep in thoughts, eyes fixed on her Tea.

— The little bugger played me, you know.

— I don't know the detail, but I gathered as much. I never really understood why you trusted him so much in the first place. But I suppose who we place our trust in is not always obvious for the rest of the world.

Damn the man, he had the subtlety of a bull in a china shop.

— Bottom line, I don't trust Percy, but I trust Luna. She might not always be easy to follow but in all those years, she never sent me the wrong way.

— I didn't know you two had stayed in touch that much…

Hermione's voice was heavy with regret.

Potter smirked.

— We signed a confidentiality agreement on her consulting. Even the MoM didn't have to know…. But now she made me her messenger, the secret doesn't seem necessary anymore.

His features soften.

— I am the godfather of their first one, he confessed. She asked Drake to be the godfather of the second one.

His own voice cracked, and a single tear slid down his right cheek.

Hermione shook her head. From the corner of his eyes, Tobias could see her own tears were not far.

— What a mess we have done, she commented.

Potter nodded silently.

The whole exchange was off-putting.

— I'll need you to disappear for a while, he announced coldly.

Hermione nodded.

It was easy to imagine her in her Minister persona.

— I'll say that I gathered evidence that you had every intention to go to Australia after the states and instead of going back home. It should buy you enough time but don't linger. I don't want to know where you go. Just avoid New-York, Australia at large and above all the UK, at least for the time being. Keep an eye on the media and contact me when your name is cleared and your mind as much.

— I intend to stay sober, she proclaimed bravely.

Tobias could have squealed from joy, no matter how undignified.

— Good for you replied Potter without a once of encouragement.

— Harry…

— I'll forgive you. I owe you as much. But it's too soon.

— I know. Thank you.

— I am not doing it for you. Right now, I am doing it for my niece and nephew. I intercepted your letter by the way. We were lucky Ron had not been at the Burrow for a while.

— Where… it's not my business. How are my kids?

— Good. Rose is loving Hogwart. She told Ginny she hoped to be in Ravenclaw's Quidditch team for the next selections, to make her family proud.

— We are already proud… what about Hugo?

— Of course, we are. Eager to go too, as every little wizard his age.

— Do they ask…

— Why their mum is not there? I am not sure Rose noticed the difference. Hugo asked once or twice. Molly said you had had problem with work and had to solve them, that he'd probably long and complicated. You are lucky Mionee. The clan will take care of them.

— I know…

He had not noticed he was drawing a small soothing circle on her upper back up until it started shaking with suppressed tears under his fingers.

He glared at the insensitivity of Potter.

The anger of the man was potent, and if he had read correctly between the line, it was justified. But still, that didn't excuse his behavior and the way he talked to another parent. He was a father himself, he should know how much he was hurting her, and how frail she already was. He was supposed to be a friend, family even.

— Would you mind, escorting me down, Mr…

— Prince, provided Hermione, lifting her head. Please, don't give him any grief, he has been nothing but helpful since we met.

— I don't doubt it, said Potter his smirk back in place. You have my word. I'll be off then.

— Please tell the kids…

— I haven't seen you Mionee, he reminded coldly her before she could go on. But if they ask their uncle, I'll tell them I know their mum love them very much and would never abandon them. Isn't it the truth? You would never?

And on that, he produced an envelope with Ron's name in her hand and threw it on her lap before walking off toward the exit.

Tobias gave a last squeezed to Hermione, murmured assurance he'd be back soon and followed suit.

He was too furious with the younger man to speak.

— You were right, declared Potter, at last, stopping on the landing of the fourth floor. She seems to have no idea.

— Indeed.

— You seem to care a great deal for her.

There was no accusation in the man's tone but he couldn't refrain to bite. Severus' temper had risen to close to the surface for comfort.

— More than you do, apparently.

— Give me a break, Potter snapped back. But his tone was more exhausted than angry. She managed to single-handedly break two marriages and a carefully balanced love-story as well as threaten multiple careers. That, and the little fact she tried to make her kids believe she was dead… I know what it's like to grow up with dead parents. I don't think that's something a mother should willfully inflict upon her kids. Ever.

— You have no understanding of her state, do you?

— No. Do you?

The man's expression was hard.

— Yes.

Potter kept gazing at him darkly for a split second before letting out a long sigh. His shoulders dropped as if submitting to the weight of his fatigue.

— Then we are lucky to have you, once more. Did you know that I named one of my kids after you? Albus Severus Potter.

— That's not my name anymore. You named that poor kid of yours after two dead men who both lied to you. One who killed the other. I wish good luck to your shrink…

— Those were two good men. One less dead than the other, obviously.

— I wouldn't be so sure.

— About the fact you are alive or the fact you are and were a good man?

— Don't be a smart ass, Potter. I suppose you will be telling your friends about your little discovery here.

The idea was deeply disturbing, but he let the tone of question tint his supposition. After all, for his pointed glare and less than subtle references, he hadn't told Hermione.

— I suppose you'd rather not?

— That would be preferable.

— I'll let you tell them, on your own time. But I won't lie forever, even for you. Merlin knows Minerva would skin me alive if she knew I was keeping this kind of news from her.

— Minerva didn't die from sickness years ago?

— You shouldn't believe everything you read in the tabloids.

The playful smirk on Potter's lips was eerily reminiscent of young Draco making a joke. It took years of his features.

— And yet, you just advised your friend to keep an eye on the media.

— She'll know what to look for. And to be honest, I am not quite sure is left of our friendship. Take care of her then, Mr. Prince. I trust you to keep your word. But don't wait too long before contacting your old friends once this affair will be settled. Farewell.

Was he not even going to ask him what happened after the Shrieking Shack? How much the boy had changed.

— Mr. Potter!

Harry stopped midway through the next flight of stairs but neither spoke nor turn toward him.

— Thank you, for your discretion and your help.

To his dismay, Tobias watched his shoulders beginning to shake.

Harry Potter turned slowly back toward him, his all body trembling from an uncontrolled laugh.

Tobias observed him, nonplussed. The man clearly needed less coffee, more sleep and potentially holidays. His sanity didn't seem entirely intact.

Potter took his glasses off to wipe tears of mirth from his eyes.

— I'd never thought I'd see the day when Severus Snape, spy and grouch extraordinaire, saviour and hero of Magical Britain would thank anyone for their discretion and service rendered, much less me of all people.

Potter was shaking his head with disbelief, hic-up of his near-hysterical laugh still shaking him.

— I am not…

— Who you were, got it, Mr. Prince. Got it. Not so much of an alias though for someone who wants to cut tie with the past. I'd never forgotten the Half-Blood Prince's invaluable help, as for Tobias… it's customary to write the full name of people on their tombstone, would you know? We never found your bodies, so never got one, but your name remains in due place on the memorial stone of Hogwarts along with the other dead heroes. You should come and see the monument someday. It's less morbid than it could have been…

Tobias had trouble computing Potter's words. Deep inside, all Severus Snape's conception of the world had been shattered by the boy's, view of him.

The thought of the memorial seemed to have sobered up Potter at last.

— I am not sure what she is worth for you, but take care of her, he said darkly. If only for her kid's sake. I hope our paths will cross again. Maybe you'll tell me then how you pulled it off.

On that, the Boy who lived to give him an identity crisis 20 years later stormed down the stairs.

* * *

Well, well, well. Life had not been all that easy on Harry neither apparently...  
Confession, I have absolutely no idea where this story is going. Those characters keep deciding what they do. I swear I didn't know either about Harry and Draco...


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